


Whitewater Place

by Violetscented



Series: Victorian Vampire Vagitarians [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A toy poodle named Killian, Blood, Comedy, F/F, First time with a woman, Secrets, Sexual Tension, Supernatural Elements, murky pasts, victorian au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4672916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetscented/pseuds/Violetscented
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an AU story set in Victorian times. It’s a love story but it has comedy and supernatural elements as well. Emma Swan is a con artist who one day stumbles upon Lady Mary Margaret Blanchard in London and ends up in her employ. That is where she meets Lady Blanchard’s distinguished relative, Baroness Regina von Mille, and finds herself fascinated by the exotic stranger with all her secrets and charm. But as the story moves on, it soon becomes clear that some secrets are more ghoulish than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The introduction of Miss Emma Swan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yellowermine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowermine/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Whitewater Place: A Visual Supplement](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4674704) by [yellowermine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowermine/pseuds/yellowermine). 



> Author’s note: I apologize for any mistakes or anachronisms. I am not an expert on Victorian times, I’ve just read one too many Victorian novels and love the time period. Spoiler alert: I called David and Mary Margaret Blanchard instead of Nolan as Nolan was more a lower class and Irish/American name in this era. Thanks go to my artist Yellowermine (spoon of evil).

Emma Swan closed the large dove-grey door behind her and walked down the street discreetly inspecting the purse of money she had lifted on the way out.

She felt no compunction about the theft, the pompous and lecherous Doctor Whale deserved to have his money pilfered. After all, the reason that he did not notice her leaving was that his young bride, the lovely Ruby Whale, was thoroughly giving him a piece of her mind after Emma informed her of how the good Doctor had tried to give her, and every other young woman in the vicinity, a free examination of their womanly parts. 

Emma had been employed as discreet companion and minder for the charming Mrs Whale due to the tall brunette’s tendencies to have _funny turns_ every full moon, but that employment had ended when she declined the well-to-do doctor’s advances. So obviously, she did what she had planned to do all along, she went to the young brunette that she had become quite friendly with and told her all of it.

Since it was not the first time these rumours had reached her nicely shaped ears, Ruby Whale believed it easily and readily. She tried to make Emma reconsider and stay on, but Emma did not want any more to do with the roaming eyes and smug smirks of the doctor. Besides, Emma had lost her wish to continue with her plan after getting to know Ruby.

You see, the clever and most extraordinarily attractive Emma Swan, was a con-artist of sorts. One with a conscience no less! She saw herself as the Robin Hood of con-artists, taking only from the rich and wicked and giving to the poor and goodhearted. Sometimes the goodhearted were the orphans in the orphanage where she herself had been raised and sometimes it was… well… herself.

When Emma returned to London from her last scam in Bath, she heard of a rich doctor who had settled with his young bride in the heart of town and now spent his days dodging work and trying to seduce anything even remotely female.

He sounded like just the right mark for Emma, she decided to get closer and make the good doctor take a fancy to her just to later blackmail him with threats of telling his wife unless he paid up handsomely.

Finding employment with her marks was not usually that taxing. With her skill for pretence she had learned to speak like a lady and to seem educated enough to get jobs as a governess, a drawing teacher or as often was the case, a lady’s companion.

A little bit of sniffing around showed that Ruby Whale wanted a companion and someone to play nursemaid when her funny turns overtook her on moonlit nights.

It all seemed to go swimmingly and the first time Emma felt Whale’s eyes roam her athletic but femininely pleasing body, she knew she had him. The problem was that the sweet and funny Ruby won her friendship, especially during those moonlit nights when Emma learned the other woman’s dark secrets, and soon Emma realised that she would have to tell Ruby the truth and then cut her losses and leave empty-handed.

That was about the time when Whale made his final move by suggesting his special examination. Emma dropped her ladylike Queen’s English and told him to _go bollock himself_ and that was when her employment was terminated.

Emma went straight to Ruby and told all, as she had been planning to do anyway, and Ruby’s sweet temper rose into animal rage.

So that was why Emma had just taken the purse that was carelessly sticking out of the pocket of Doctor Whale’s overcoat in the hallway.

The couple’s lazy, old butler was in the drawing room attempting to keep Mrs Whale from clawing the doctor’s eyes out, and so none of them noticed Emma pick up the black slim purse and leave.

Emma looked at the contents and figured there was at least 30 shillings and a couple of farthings in there. Not bad, but not enough for her to relax and not plan her next scheme. She placed the purse in the satchel bag she usually carried with her. It contained only a shawl, a change of corset and drawers and a small bottle

 Where should she head next? She had gone to Bath because she had made one too many enemies in London, but after a few months in the much sleepier and dull town of Bath, she had grown homesick. So now she was back in London but faced with the same dilemma as before she heard of Dr and Mrs Whale – where could she safely ply her trade?

Suddenly a shout came from further down the street. “Lady Blanchard! You forgot your change!”

Emma looked up and saw a young, affluent-looking woman walking down the street with a small poodle on a leash. A man was running after her and apparently calling her name. The lady turned and gave a high-pitched gasp and clasped her gloved hand over her mouth.

“Oh, Mister Smith! Do not tell me I did it again! Oh, but I am a silly goose. Thank you for your honesty and for your speed in returning it. I do so apologize,” the woman said and accepted a handful of coins from the man, who by the looks of his apron must have been a baker.

Emma smiled at the vulnerability and openness of the dear, young lady. It would most likely be ridiculously easy to con this woman, but she seemed sweet and earnest and Emma would never prey on her kind. She walked on and merely nodded in greeting to the lady as she passed her.

When Emma had walked a few steps from the lady she heard the patter of tiny steps and then felt a harsh little bite on her ankle. It went through her soft kid boots and stung into the skin like little but sharp needle pricks.

It was the lady’s poodle! It had apparently gotten free when its owner put her change away and for some reason it had taken a disliking to Emma’s ankle.

With a shake of her strong leg, Emma tried to free herself from the grip of the tiny poodle’s sharp mouth but that just made the beast sink its teeth in further. Its owner quickly stepped over and picked up the beast while yelping, “ Oh Killian! What are you doing, you little brute!”

Emma unlaced her boot and rubbed at her ankle. She soon noticed that the tiny bit of fluff had bit through her stocking and made bleeding little teeth marks appear just where her ankle met her foot.

“I am so sorry! Killian gets carried away sometimes, especially around pretty young ladies. Please accept my apologies!”

Surprisingly in pain, Emma grimaced a forced smile at the woman. “That’s quite alright, I am sure he only meant to play. Thank you for picking him up though, Miss… or is it _lady_?”

“Yes, that’s right,” the young woman said with a nod. “It is _Lady_ Blanchard. I went out in the carriage to get some fresh air and to purchase some sweet buns but I seem to have forgotten where Perkins said he would park the carriage and wait for me. Very silly of me.”

Emma tried to hide a smile. “I am sorry to hear that, your ladyship. Would you like some help in searching for him? It is not safe for a lady to walk these streets on her own.”

Lady Blanchard looked at her in astonishment. “That is an odd thing to say for a lady who is roaming the streets on her own.”

“Ah, but I am not a lady. I am simply a _lady’s companion_. Currently out of employment, I hasten to add,” Emma said with an earnest smile.

Lady Blanchard tilted her wide, flower-laden hat to glance down at Emma’s feet and her snow white brow immediately furrowed.

“You are still bleeding! It is dripping down your boot! Oh, I am so appalled! You must come with me and allow my personal maid have a look! She used to be my governess and has years of experience of patching up my wounds derived from my time with horses, dogs and a particularly vicious rabbit I had as a child.”

Emma was about to decline and say that she really should be on her way when she realised that she had nowhere to go. Perhaps this lady lived somewhere pleasant and Emma would be getting a free ride there? Or maybe there was a scam or at least a job to be had from this situation? Emma realised she had nothing to lose.

“Alright, as long as I am not interrupting your day too terribly?”

The brunette’s face lit up with a smile. “No not at all! I would relish the company and _someone_ here needs to apologize to you when he has calmed down.”

Lady Blanchard looked down at the peevish poodle in her arms with a disapproving expression.

 “Killian Jones, you will calm down and be nice to the young miss here or I swear you shan’t get any liver for dinner tonight!”  

Suddenly Lady Blanchard looked up at Emma with an astonished look. “Oh, but I do not know your name. I have invited you to my home without even knowing your name, how peculiar of me. I am not usually this distracted!”

Emma gave her most charming and reassuring smile. “My name is Emma Swan and I am, as I mentioned, a currently unemployed lady’s companion, governess or sometimes drawing teacher.”

Lady Blanchard tilted her head in an almost bird-like manner. “A drawing teacher? How interesting, I did always wish to learn how to draw better. My ferns always end up looking like ivy and my horses like donkeys.”

Emma merely inclined her head and smiled politely and began to walk next to the lady. She felt shabby in her simple, duck egg dress compared to the lady next to her who practically gleamed in her powder blue dress with embroidered white flowers on the bodice, but that could not be helped.

Lady Blanchard gave a relieved sigh. “Ah, there is Perkins with the carriage.”

Emma looked up and saw an elegant and lavish Landau carriage. It was obvious that this lady had money to burn.   

As they got into the carriage Emma watched her new acquaintance. The lady was pale as snow with raven black hair and surprisingly red lips, but Emma guessed that her lips were naturally red and not painted that un-ladylike shade. 

They spoke during their journey and Emma soon found Lady Blanchard to be less vapid and scatty than she had seemed. The young woman did actually have a good head on her shoulders, it was merely buried in daydreams of rainbows and unicorns too much of the time.

By the time they arrived out in leafy Greenwich, where the Blanchard’s had their luxurious townhouse by the name of Whitewater Place, Emma had come to two conclusions:

One, she could easily gain employment as Lady Mary Margaret Blanchard’s drawing teacher if she managed to charm the lady’s husband, Lord David Blanchard, in the same manner that she had his wife.

Two, Greenwich was a perfect place to lay low and look for new wealthy and unsuspecting targets. There was bound to be rich scoundrels and cruel ladies to con out here.

Yes, Emma thought as she followed the prattling Lady Blanchard into the house to have her ankle seen to, yes, this would be a good place to start.


	2. Baroness Regina von Mille has arrived

Most of the journey had been made by train. The train was smelly, crowded and overpriced, but Baroness von Mille was still happy to be traveling on this modern and marvellous mode of transport, cumbersome as it may be.

She was happy because she hated to waste time and traveling between Geneva and London usually took far too long for her liking. The need to stop for fresh horses infuriated her and she much preferred to travel by the faster method; train and boat. Regina was not generally a patient woman.

Despite the general state of the train, she had enjoyed all the luxuries of her first class accommodation and had obviously not been pestered by any brazen gentlemen or lost peasants… so all in all it was a good journey. But it had been dull.

This was why, as she strode out of the now stationary train at Paddington station, she looked around for any hint of diversion. She found it immediately as she spotted a young blonde running to welcome a man in a moustache and a ridiculously over-sized top hat.

Regina ignored the man that the woman so brazenly embraced, clearly he must be her husband, and looked at the beautiful woman instead. There was no better tonic for eyes weary from travel than a beautiful woman.

Regina raked her eyes over the woman’s face and body and wondered how long it would take her to convince the young blonde to leave her husband with the ill-fitting hat and join her in debauchery and sin for a few weeks.

She smirked slightly but decided against it, too much hassle and not enough reward. She mustn’t get waylaid from the plan. She hadn’t been in London for many years and back then she hadn’t been in the envious position in society that she was now.

Her first priority was to get herself into London’s finer circles and to show off her wealth and title to her distant relation in this fair city, Mary Margaret Blanchard.

Regina pursed her lip in a grimace as she corrected her grey gloves and thought about _dear_ Mary Margaret. When last Regina visited she had been with her mother and the daunting Cora had introduced her to their wealthy relation, Lady Blanchard. Although back then she hadn’t been a lady, only a young girl with big pretty eyes and an annoying tendency to follow Regina everywhere.

Regina had been forced to listen to her mother lecture her on how she should make Mary Margaret like her as to get access to her connections and inherited wealth. Oh how Regina had hated having to _make friends_ and pretend to be someone she was not.

She much more preferred the way she led her life now, she had achieved her wealth and status by schemes, seduction, lies and a few well-placed walnuts in her horrible octogenarian husband’s tartlet. Such a shame that the cruel old man was so dreadfully allergic to nuts! Still, it had been a rather quick death and she felt she had been merciful in that, considering how he had treated her.

Now she was free. Naturally society did its best to confine her into what a woman should _be_ and _do_ , but she usually managed to sidestep that.

Her main tool in this was to claim to be from another country no matter what country she was actually in. It always amazed her how much people would let foreigners get away with.

But then, people had travelled so very little and therefore knew so little of what was beyond their own borders. Regina had been to more countries than most of the people she met, and usually to much more exotic places. Not content with the allure of Europe, Regina and her former husband had travelled as far as to India and to even to Ceylon.

It had disappointed Regina greatly that he survived both trips, but then the walnuts fixed that problem.   

So Regina played the foreigner and was suddenly allowed to wear more garish clothes, to do things without a male protector in tow, to say slightly provocative things and to stare a little too long at a young woman’s shapely ankle simply because she was a foreigner and obviously did not know any better. It suited her very well and with her exotic olive skin and non-descript name she pulled it off easily. No matter what country she was in, people always assumed she was from somewhere else.

Regina was out of the station building now and asked a porter to get her a hansom cab. As she waited she brushed some travel dirt off her mauve dress with black laced trim. With its sharp colour and dark details, it bordered on being an inappropriate colour for daytime wear, but then she was a foreigner and clearly hadn’t realised that… right?

Regina knew very well that she could have avoided the _appropriate but oh so boring_ light-coloured dresses by wearing an all-black dress as she was a widow, but it was far too hot in the early autumn air for black. No, she would wear this dress and stare anyone who said it was unfitting down.

After all, it was bad enough that she had to wear far too many muslin petticoats and an extra reinforced corset to give her the _absolute perfect_ figure, she wouldn’t be baking hot in black as well. She went far to achieve exquisite beauty but she wouldn’t be _that_ uncomfortable, at least not while traveling.

Soon a cab pulled over and she and her only piece of luggage, a black leather portmanteau, got in. She read out the address for Whitewater Place which was mentioned in the letter from Mary Margaret and the driver got the tired old horse moving.

That letter had arrived for Regina only last month. Apparently Mary Margaret had spoken to Lady Midas whom had been visiting Regina a while back and gotten the address from her. It was just Regina’s luck that Katherine knew Mary Margaret, the European upper class was so incestualized!

The letter had been full of gushing affection, as was the custom of modern ladies, and yet there had been a real urgency in Mary Margaret’s wish for her to come and visit.

Lady Blanchard had apologised for not sending her condolences when Regina’s mother, Cora, died nor when Regina’s husband passed but had clung to the excuse that she did not know of either death. That was obviously true as it had never occurred to Regina to keep the younger woman abreast of anything happening in her life.  

So Mary Margaret had gushed over how much she had missed Regina’s company and begged her widowed ‘cousin’ to come and stay as soon as could be arranged.

Regina had decided to use an illicit new talent, which she had acquired right after her husband’s death six months ago in Geneva, and despite her discretion, rumours were starting to spread.

So now she needed to find new hunting grounds for her hobby as well as a way to increase her ever-growing wealth and to perhaps satiate her womanly needs with some other willing woman.

Of course, Lady Blanchard saw Regina as nothing more than a sweet woman of high-birth who was surely lonely after being widowed. Oh, if Mary Margaret only knew that the tales of their nobility that Regina’s mother had filled her with, were all lies.

Regina only had one tiny thread linking her to the upper class – Mary Margaret herself. But oh, Cora, had been an expert at pretending to be more than she was and it was a skill she had taught her daughter.  

Regina had fooled many people into thinking that she was of noble birth, including her not-so-dearly departed husband. Secrets were her specialty and she knew exactly how to dazzle people so they would never catch on.

The hansom cab had finally made the long trek out to Greenwich and stopped outside the luxurious home of Lord and Lady Blanchard.

Regina paid the cab driver and then ran her hands over her her hair, to ensure that it was still locked up in its coiffure and the black hat she was wearing, before she walked up to the grand door and knocked firmly.


	3. A new visitor and a new tutor

Lady Blanchard’s old governess, and now elderly maid, Johanna had done a good job with Emma’s ankle. Whatever cream she had put on had stung like a wasp at the time but now gave the little bite marks a numb feeling that was infinitely more manageable.

Her Ladyship had insisted on providing Emma with afternoon tea and Emma had graciously accepted. She sat now and showed Lady Blanchard her preferred ratio of clotted cream to strawberry jam on a scone.

“Oh, you are right… I was putting too much jam on before,” Lady Blanchard agreed after the first bite.

Emma smiled at her. “Balance, Lady Blanchard. Everything in life comes down to balance. That is something I have most certainly learned while painting, too much of any element will ruin even the most well thought out piece of art.”

Mary Margaret Blanchard hummed a little in response and chewed her cheek for about four seconds until she called for a footman and asked him to fetch Lord Blanchard so that he could be introduced to Miss Swan.

Emma hid her smile. This was it, she was about to be offered a job… easy work! Granted, she would never con Lady Blanchard but either Lord Blanchard or one of their acquaintances would surely be a suitable mark, someone who had a good fleecing coming! If not, well the steady salary and nice accommodation was not to be frowned upon.

Five minutes later, Lord David Blanchard left his study and the correspondence he had been tending to, and was introduced to Emma. If his lordship minded that his wife had brought home some strange woman and now wanted to employ her - he certainly did not show it. He showed nothing but open friendliness and trust, just like his wife.

_Probably not a mark for a con then_ , Emma thought and resigned herself to just working as a drawing instructor for a while. It wouldn’t be too bad, she had always loved to draw after all.

As an orphan she had often begged for spare change while drawing impromptu pictures with a bit of coal on the pavement. The love of drawing stuck with her and as soon as she had money and a full belly she would spend some of her coins on pencils and paper.

It was funny that when she managed to lure herself in to the higher echelons of society that particular skill had come in handy, but now she had an array of colours and materials to work with. She had taught many a young women of noble birth how to get a shadow right all while marvelling at the wealth of colour or textures she could achieve now. Sometimes when she worked with a new materials she was teaching herself at the same time as she taught her pupils. Much of her survival in life had depended on her being a fast learner.

As soon as the necessary amount of small talk was done between Lord and Lady Blanchard and Emma, they decided that Emma would send in some references from former pupils as soon as she could and then she could start teaching on Monday.

When Emma reluctantly pointed out that she only had her satchel of things as belongings, it was decided that new clothing and toiletries would be purchased for Emma post haste and that the cost would be taken out of her first salary. 

Emma was happy with the salary David had suggested and she had no doubt that her sleeping quarters and the food would be most satisfactory here.

Even the spoiled toy-poodle, Killian, seemed happy enough now and he had even sniffed Emma’s fingers and eaten a bit of clotted cream from them without showing the slightest hint of aggression. Still, Emma made a mental note of not completely trusting the unpredictable little fluffball. 

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

Lady Blanchard looked up at her husband. “Dearest, are you expecting company?”

He shook his head and put his hand on her shoulder. “No, I cannot recall any visitors this week. It must be a social call from one of the local ladies.”

Emma kept from rolling her eyes. The habit of paying, often pointless, visits to each other was a common practice amongst ladies that Emma found most disturbing. She was not much for small talk unless it was business, when she wanted to talk to someone she would do so and not because there was a strict social etiquette of whom visited whom at what time and for how long. It was a strange social game that Emma as an outsider never understood.

The butler entered the room and addressed Lord Blanchard. “My lord, there is a Baroness von Mille at the door. She does not have an invitation but she claims to be a relation of her Ladyship”

Lady Blanchard immediately clasped her hands and gave a happy little gasp. “ _Regina_ is here? How can that be? I was led to believe she was in Switzerland?”

The butler gave a small bow. “I understand that she arrived in London today, milady. Shall I escort her in?”

“Oh yes, of course! Right away, Wilkes,” Lady Blanchard replied almost breathlessly.

Emma watched as the woman in front of her suddenly began to fidget with her hair and straighten up a little extra in her seat.

However, when the butler brought in a strikingly beautiful woman in a lavish mauve dress with black trims, it was Lord Blanchard who jumped forward to address her first.”

“Baroness! My wife has told me so much about you, how lovely to finally make your acquaintance. I am Lord David Blanchard, welcome to our home,” he said with what seemed like sincere joy.

The Baroness looked him right in the eye and smiled at him with what looked like a mixture of amusement and flirtation before echoing the sentiment and thanking him.

Emma felt shocked at the lack of social decorum shown by the woman but she also had to admit to being impressed with the woman’s presence. It was almost like the room they were in had altered as this woman strode in to it. It was most peculiar.

Lady Blanchard apparently could not keep still anymore and jumped up to embrace the slightly older woman. The Baroness seemed taken aback by the embrace and did not look quite comfortable as she returned it.

“Oh Regina… May I still call you that even though it has been so long and you have a title now? I know it is not appropriate but we are family after all.”

The Baroness gave a brief close-lipped laugh and then smiled as she said, “of course, dear. You may call me what you wish!”

Emma marvelled at the strange woman’s voice, it was rich, warm and rather deep. It seemed to flow over the words and give them hidden meanings. It was the sort of voice you could listen to for hours even if it was not saying anything of interest.  

The Baroness allowed Lord Blanchard to take her portmanteau and place it by the chair next to Emma. As the dark-haired newcomer spoke, she removed her mauve gloves and placed them on the table before sitting down.  

“I do apologize for not forewarning you of my visit. I am sure it was horribly rude of me, I do hope I will not cause you any trouble. I am aware that you may be occupied and if that is the case I shall immediately go to stay with acquaintances in up in Belgravia.”

“Oh we wouldn’t dream of it! You must stay here with us, not only because we desire your company but because the London fog is so very bad these days. At least here there is some fresher air to be had,” Lady Blanchard piped up hastily.

Lord Blanchard nodded and once more put his hand on his wife’s shoulder in solidarity.

“Yes of course, Baroness! We would love to have you as a guest as long as you wish to stay. Do not fret about not alerting us of your visit, we should have been glad for the warning of course, so we could prepare a room and some nice activities for you, but we know you are a foreigner and do things a little different than we English.”

Regina smiled to herself and regally dipped her head in agreement. Then she turned and gave Emma a searching look.

“Oh my! Where are our manners! We were so surprised at your visit that I forgot to introduce our visitor. This is my newly appointed drawing instructor, Miss Emma Swan. Miss Swan, this is Baroness von Mille, my distinguished cousin from abroad,” Lady Blanchard said with excitement.

The Baroness did not look at Lady Blanchard during the introduction, she looked straight at Emma.

“Oh… charmed, I am sure. I am not quite a cousin of Lady Blanchard’s, but in fact a more distant relation. Hence the difference in her milky white skin and my slightly darker skin tone,” Regina said with a challenging smirk.

Lord and Lady Blanchard looked uncomfortable at the blunt and sudden mention of Regina’s exotically darker skin but Emma did not blink.

“Both are exceedingly lovely hues, Baroness. Take it from a humble painter and drawing instructor,” Emma said with a little bow of her head.

Regina felt heart give an extra beat and her smile grew genuine as she realised that she had apparently stumbled upon someone _possibly interesting_ in this boring little corner of the city.

“That’s most unusual is it not? A female drawing master, I mean? How fascinating,” Regina drawled with a smile.

“Not as fascinating as a lady who travels so far all alone and without any substantial luggage, I am sure… Baroness,” Emma replied with a confident smirk that almost rivalled Regina’s own.  

“Oh, my few pieces of luggage were sent on and will be arriving soon. I decided to buy most things new here, I ordered it via post and asked them to send the clothes and toiletries here. No point in having the wardrobe and cologne of Geneva when you are in London, hmm? What few things I wanted to bring are in this bag,” Regina said and gently caressed the top of the black leather portmanteau by her feet.

Emma and Regina were still looking at each other, appraising and so far appreciating the other, as Lady Blanchard spoke.

She seemed confused as to why the two women in front of her were looking at each other like that, to her it looked like when Killian sized up another dog before deciding whether or not to fight it. So she was exceedingly happy to have something to say to break the strange mood in the room.

“Oh but we must arrange a small soiree now that you are here, Regina. Dearest David, can we arrange a dinner? We will not invite too many guests, just enough to celebrate our distinguished guest in style!”

“Whatever your heart wishes for, my one true love,” he replied with a fond smile.

“That sounds delightful,” Regina replied. “If it is an informal soiree then I suggest we invite young Miss Swan here, I do so wish to hear more about how a young woman ends up in her trade.”

Lady Blanchard looked nervously at her husband and he shared her anxious look. A drawing teacher naturally was not a servant but neither was it an expected guest at a high society dinner.

Emma felt sorry for the two kind and baffled hosts and cleared her throat as she chose her words carefully.

“That is very kind of you, Baroness. But considering my station in life, I do not believe it would be appropriate. Perhaps I can tell you my meagre and dull life-story during a regular meal at some later date?”

“Nonsense,” Regina interjected. “I wish to make your acquaintance sooner rather than later and I am sure that any guests invited to this special occasion will find it most interesting to have new blood in the dinner conversation. Mary Margaret, do you not agree?”

Emma grinned slightly. She suddenly had a feeling that the Baroness was insisting on her presence at the dinner for reasons other than merely wishing to get to know her. This woman liked to create a stir.

Mary Margaret seemed to find her tongue and her courage once more and nodded decisively. “Yes, yes of course we shall invite dear Miss Swan too. As you say, Regina, she will be an interesting addition to our circle of friends.”

The Baroness thanked Lady Blanchard, gave Emma another enigmatic little smile, and then turned completely away from Emma and began to enquire about the health of their hosts. As Lord and Lady Blanchard replied in turn, Emma watched the newcomer and thought about what exactly this woman was up to.

If there was one thing Emma could spot a mile away it was a cunning woman with a scheme, after all, she was one herself. But what was the Baroness up to?


	4. The dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Thanks to Nicole for betaing the past chapters. From here on in it’s only edited by myself (as usual) so I apologize for any mistakes.

The dinner was arranged for two days after Emma and Regina’s arrival. The two women hadn’t seen much more of each other during that brief time. Regina seemed to spend most of her time in her room attending to her private correspondence or in the centre of London shopping for all the items she had decided not to pack or have delivered.  

The closest Emma had gotten to the woman was when she heard the servants gossip about the wealthy and exotic Baroness in the hallways.

“I hear she has travelled all over the world and speaks NINE languages… or… or maybe even TEN!”

“The first footman at Baronet Coleridge’s house said that she came to stay there without invitation and snuck several French bottles of port into her bedroom every night!”

“I heard she was asked to quit Lady Daunte’s summerhouse in Florence because of some saucy scandal!”

“Someone told Mary down in the kitchen that Baroness von Mille never eats! That’s why she is so skinny!”

Emma on the other hand had begun the drawing lessons with Lady Blanchard by allowing her ladyship to draw simple things so that Emma may assess the level of her prowess and determine where they needed to start.

However, the lessons had been gallingly brief as Lady Blanchard now was occupied with planning the dinner in the Baroness’ honour.

Emma found that it was actually a relief when the evening of the dinner arrived as her host and pupil had been very distracted and tense the last two days. It was clear that this foreign woman was important to Lady Blanchard and a lot of thought went into the planning of the dinner.

It showed on the night itself. The guests were all plainly chosen for their various agreeable qualities. One was a brilliant conversationalist, another was well-travelled, a third was an excellent storyteller, a fourth had a sweet disposition, a fifth an interesting position in society and so on. Furthermore, they were all surprisingly open and accepting for modern people of their class.

Mary-Margaret’s efforts also showed in the food. Dish after dish of well-cooked food, made with the best produce and condiments, were placed in front of the guests.

Admiral French, accompanied by his beautiful young daughter Belle, had partaken amply of both food and drink when he proposed a toast to the Blanchard’s kitchen staff with the words, “Here’s to a meal that Queen Victoria herself would be proud of! Good proper fare without any gaudy extravagance, but with all the flare of the colonies and our own good English cooking!”

Everyone toasted this and mumbled about how extraordinarily well the wine had complemented the lamb. Emma hid a smile and thought to herself that wine which was that expensive would complement just about anything.      

She had been chiefly quiet during the dinner, taking in every guest and the secrets that they unknowingly spilled as the wine filled their bellies. With gestures, small talk and tall tales they told the keen listener in Emma much more than they knew.

The blonde spoke politely to those seated on either side of her but most of the time she took a backseat in the discussions. After all, this was a golden opportunity to find someone worthy of being conned.

Annoyingly she found that every person she spoke to was either sweet enough to warrant nothing but kindness or naïve enough to warrant only pity and forbearance. Now, Emma was well aware that seeming sweet or slightly dim did not mean proof of a lack of wickedness, but it did mean that she would have to get to know them much closer to see if they were deserving of her scheme.     

The only time Emma’s polite but quiet observations were interrupted was when she caught the eye of the Baroness.

Emma would let her eyes wander around the table with the eleven guests and suddenly find herself staring straight into the enigmatic, deep brown eyes of the striking foreigner. Every time this occurred Emma found herself getting goosebumps, but she could not say why.

She had been right that first day when she had met the Baroness though, there was something out of the ordinary going on here. It seemed as if the Baroness was scanning the guests in the same way Emma was.

Naturally there could be plenty of innocent reasons for this. Perhaps the Baroness had anthropological interests and enjoyed studying people or perhaps this was how she acclimatized to a new place, by surveying the natives? But it seemed unlikely as there appeared to be something calculating in those eyes as they left Emma’s and moved to the person next to her.

Emma’s feeling that she would have to keep an eye on the other newcomer in Whitewater Place was fortified. She had heard the other guests whisper about the exotic stranger which everyone had heard of but no one, except Lady Midas, seemed to have ever met in the flesh before. Emma gathered that Baroness von Mille was quite the illusive celebrity.

Emma emptied her wine glass and squirmed slightly in her seat. She felt uncomfortable in the garments that Lady Blanchard had so kindly lent her. The whalebone corset was far too tight and the dress far too hot, besides, Emma was certain that its hue of bright yellow did not suit her no matter how Lady Blanchard had gushed over how well it matched her blonde hair.

Emma would have preferred the black dress with burgundy details that the Baroness wore. As a widow, the Baroness could obviously get away with wearing black but the dark red details stood out as a sore thumb and Emma could hear the lady opposite her sneer about foreigners and their brash dress sense. 

All too soon the dinner was over. Emma had particularly enjoyed the dessert and was sad that the portions had been so petite. She was a woman who liked to be active. She enjoyed long walks, badminton and swimming and with that active lifestyle came not only a physique slightly stronger than most women’s but also a tendency to be constantly peckish.

Lady Blanchard rose and all the ladies at the table rose with her as she smilingly informed the guests that it was time to leave the gentlemen to their cigars and port. As they all left the room, dresses rustling in the large dining room, Emma swore she head Regina drawl, “such a pity, I do so enjoy port and cigars.”

The image was in Emma’s head before she could stop it. The full, plump lips closing over a cigar or leaving dusky lipstick stains on the rim of a glass of port. Suddenly her breath had quickened and Emma rebuked herself for it. Undoubtedly it had been too long since she had a man.

She had always been partial to dark, mysterious men and clearly this dark, mysterious woman was just confusing Emma’s dormant libido. She shook off the strange thoughts and walked on.  

When they had retired to a handsomely decorated drawing room they all engaged in small talk about the gentlemen and cuts of dresses and of course the same dull gossip that the men were probably discussing back in the dining room.

Emma was being queried about her past and giving off the same lies of being the daughter of a clergyman as usual to Lady Katherine Midas when she saw the Baroness out of the corner of her eye. The woman seemed to be giving relationship advice to Admiral French’s daughter, Belle.

“Naturally I am not suggesting that a young woman should kiss a man who held her captive, what kind of message is that?”

Belle French stared at her and stammered, “ W-well he did not hold me captive. He just convinced me to stay.”

The Baroness looked into Belle’s eyes for a moment and then drawled, “a man who hesitates even a second before letting you leave when you wish is not worth any of your time. No matter how much gold he has or how much he needs to be saved from himself. Do yourself a favour, my dear, run fast and far from a man like that!”

Emma chuckled to herself as she thought that this was the soundest advice she had ever heard a titled widow give a young girl. Lady Midas stared at her and Emma was just about to come up with an excuse to why she had chuckled when the butler announced a new guest.

“The Duchess of Blueborough!”

The Duchess strode in and Emma’s blood seemed to freeze in her veins. Suddenly she was thrown back into late adolescence when she had run away from the orphanage and found shelter in a religious order. The order had been very devoted to charity for the poor and had several wealthy patrons who gave both money and time to it. One of them had been the woman in front of her.

Emma had been both quick-witted and quick-footed even then and soon the Duchess had taken an interest in her. She had asked Emma to run errands for her and it hadn’t been long until Emma noticed that the errands were anything but innocent.

She was collecting money from people who seemed pained and guilty and after a few weeks Emma was certain that the Duchess was blackmailing people. She had foolishly let slip as much to the Duchess herself and had been surprised to find the older woman happy to hear that the clever street urchin had cracked the secret. Emma had expected rage and a knife to the throat but the Duchess showed only pride and a wish to teach Emma more.

Soon the Duchess of Blueborough, a small county outside of London where the Duchess very rarely even visited, was teaching Emma how to find out secrets and use them against people.

To then be able to get close enough to people to lure these secrets out – she gave Emma a brief education in all things that an un-titled young woman of good breeding, but limited means, would have. Soon Emma could pass as an upper middle class girl and she chose the fake background of being a recently orphaned clergyman’s daughter.

The problem was that when Emma felt fully taught she ran away in the night. With all of the Duchess’s money kept on the premises and of course all the scheming woman’s secrets and her methods. Emma had painstakingly managed to keep away from the Duchess ever since but now… here the damned woman was.

As the Duchess explained her tardiness by having been delayed in her charitable mission, Emma looked for an escape route. She doubted that the Duchess would create a scene in such a public place but she felt sure that it wouldn’t be long until she felt cold revenge if she was spotted.

The Duchess was clever. She would have to be, to have been playing her dark games in the midst of London society for so many years and never been burnt. Instead she seemed to be thriving, she was older of course, but still impeccably dressed and handsome in a strange, fairy-like way.

Emma had to get out of there before she was spotted. She spluttered a few words to Lady Midas and asked the elegant blonde if she could convey to Lady Blanchard that she was feeling unwell and had retired to bed. Barely had she gotten an affirmative reply from Lady Midas until she subtly but quickly walked along the farthest wall towards the door out to the corridor and freedom.

The corridor did not lead to the stairs which would deliver Emma to the safety of her room but it did lead to a balcony and Emma snuck out onto it and took a deep breath of relief at that she had managed to leave without being noticed. Or so she believed.

In actual truth she soon heard purposeful steps behind her. As Emma turned she soon saw that her pursuer had not been the Duchess nor a concerned Lady Blanchard. It was the Baroness.

“That was an elegant escape. Even I would have missed it if I had not been watching the door in the vain hope of a maid bringing some small, dry Sherries or some other strong drink. I was dying in there,” she drawled dramatically and clasped her elegant hands.

“And you are not _dying_ out here?” Emma asked, stalling and hoping that the mysterious brunette would return back in and not betray Emma’s current location.

“No, I am perfectly comfortable out here where the air is less stale and the company is better. I can rely on you to not bore me of details of your love life, the weather or how _terrible_ the London smog is.”

Emma smiled despite herself. “I am sorry that you were bored. Lady Blanchard took such pains to invite interesting company to impress you with.”

“Ah… but dear little Mary Margaret doesn’t know what interests me,” Regina snapped with surprising venom.

Emma realised that there was something not quite right between this woman and Lady Blanchard. She also realised that while speaking to the Baroness her heartbeat had gone from painfully fast to an almost normal pace. This woman seemed to return Emma to her usual purposeful focus somehow.

The Baroness was smiling at her and seemed to be admiring Emma’s bared shoulders and neck. It almost gave her goosebumps.

“You know, you do have the most beautiful skin. As pale as Mary-Margaret’s but more creamy in colour and less chalk-white. There is more warmth and yellow in the tone of your skin, but still… so pale. So pale that I feel like I might see right through it and see the blood in your veins. Maybe then I could spot some of those looming secrets you keep… Miss Swan.” 

Emma felt her heart begin to quicken again, but it was not painful. There was danger here. Danger in that she was suspected by someone. Danger in that Emma had so many enemies in this city. And yet… Emma oddly enough felt like the danger was not increased by this woman, it was simply more… interesting. That, which before had been a horrible trap, now became a thrilling game.

Emma smiled at the Baroness and the older woman smiled back. Unspoken understanding shimmered between them. They were two wolves in a flock of sheep, both willing to hunt but neither of them desperately on the prowl.

“Perhaps I wish to keep my secrets, Madam Baroness.”

The Baroness pursed her lips and did her best imitation of a petulant child. “Oh, but that is no fun, Miss Swan. I do so love to gather secrets and to get under people’s skin. Especially skin as fetching as yours.”

Those dark and arresting brown eyes travelled over the naked expanse of skin at Emma’s shoulders and neck once more.

Suddenly Emma felt uneasy. The way the Baroness behaved always went against normal social protocol and often she left Emma feeling off kilter and exposed. Although, Emma had to admit that she dealt with it better than Lord and Lady Blanchard did. The Baroness could make them blush and feel confused with no more than three or four words.

Now it was Emma that was blushing. Why did the Baroness keep complimenting her skin? Did she think that simple compliments would win her access to Emma’s secrets? Emma considered her reply. The Baroness was so very much above her in the rank of society, she had to be diffident and polite… and yet… what she most wanted to do was give a reply so scathing that it shocked the smug smirk off the Baroness’s beautifully sculpted features.

“I…I am afraid I must deny you that, Baroness. At least for tonight. I am not feeling well and as soon as I have gotten a good lungful of fresh air, I plan to retire to my quarters and have an early night.”

The Baroness looked disappointed. “I see. Well, I shall leave you to it then. You take at least _five_ deep lungfuls. I would wager that the Duchess, whom you so elegantly avoided, will have moved back to the dining room to speak with his Lordship by then. I overheard that she wished to speak to him before I followed you.”

With that the brunette turned on her heel and returned inside.

Emma was left standing with a perturbed expression. Obviously there was not much that escaped the Baroness.  


	5. Sketching and reading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : The term morbidity was sometimes used in Victorian times to signify same-sex relationships.

The Baroness was driving all the servants up the wall. She was frequently demanding and discourteous, particularly before breakfast. Some of the servants seemed to hate her for her rude behaviour and some of them seemed to be petrified of her and her sarcastic, biting remarks.

Emma was merely amused. Even when the ire was directed at her she bizarrely enjoyed it. Sometimes she would let it just roll of her back and sometimes she would make light of it and be snapped at for making jokes and then sometimes… well, sometimes she _would_ lose her temper.

Emma did generally have a tendency to be roused to anger on certain occasions, and this tendency reared its ugly head when the Baroness was uncouth to a servant or member of the household who had done nothing wrong. Then Emma’s sense of justice would flare up and she would have to swallow her rage to not shout at the Baroness, a gesture which would surely get her thrown out.

Her drawing lessons with Lady Blanchard proved a welcome oasis. Emma did not have to worry about the Baroness’ tendency to make her angry with provocations, her skill for making Emma uneasy with intimate attention or making her wary with the brunette’s tendency to sniff out secrets.

One mild afternoon, Lady Blanchard decided they should head out to Whitewater Place’s garden overlooking the riverbank. There was a small rose garden and a few fruit trees.

It was towards those trees that Lady Blanchard steered them while comparing the townhouse to their larger estate out in the country. Emma nodded and smiled at the right points of the monologue but she was not feeling very patient as she knew where all this was leading.

Her hostess had claimed she wanted to sketch the view in general but Emma knew what it was that her Ladyship wanted to capture on paper – birds. No matter what Emma suggested they could sketch, draw or paint, her pupil always suggested something connected with birds. It was driving Emma potty, but she was in no position to argue.

Lady Blanchard strode on merrily and Emma followed with writing pads and a few pencils of different ilk. They sat down in the shade of a large apple tree with the apples just mature enough for the early starters to be picked, but not too much as to strew the ground with fallen fruit and wasps.  

The air smelled faintly of the apples and the autumn flowers of mid-September and Emma filled her lungs with the sweet-smelling air.

Mary Margaret Blanchard was scouring the four apple trees in front of them and Emma left her waiting for a while before pointing out a magpie which sat on a high branch in the tree next to them.

Lady Blanchard gave a heartfelt smile and craned her neck to get a proper look before she took a drawing pad and a pencil from Emma and eagerly began to sketch. Emma watched her for a few moments and gave some pointers on what to start with and what to leave for last.    

When Lady Blanchard was engrossed in trying to capture the feathers, Emma left her to it and grabbed the other pad to do some sketching of her own. She had seen a peculiarly bent little tree which reminded her of an old crone with a cane and she wanted to see if she could capture that likeness.

However, as she put pen to paper and took her first examining look at the tree, she was distracted. Walking towards them in her usual swaying and elegant gait was the Baroness. 

Emma felt her fingers itch to try and draw the stunning woman but she worried that if she began that, she might not ever stop. Baroness Regina von Mille was intriguing and Emma had a feeling that she could draw this woman a hundred times and still not get any closer to capturing nor understanding that enigmatic creature.

The Baroness reached up and picked a mature apple from a branch above her. It made her body stretch and take on an alluring shape, pushing her bosom out and lifting her long skirts to show a couple of inches of her ankles.

Emma’s breathing suddenly grew rapid. The Baroness examined the apple in her hand and then brought it to her face to sniff it. She did not take a bite of the ripe fruit, Emma was not surprised at that as the Baroness seemed to eat very little. She did drink, but rarely anything else than water, red wine or as proven at the dinner, port.

The Baroness suddenly caught Emma staring. Or perhaps she had known that Emma was watching her all along? She gave her suggestive and highly inappropriate smirk and Emma gave a smaller one in return before tipping her head in greeting.

“Regina!” The gleeful cry came from Mary Margaret who had just noticed the newcomer.

“Very astute, dear,” the Baroness jeered at her hostess. “I am glad to see you so pleasantly occupied, Mary Margaret”, she added to take the sting out of her earlier statement.

Then the woman, who Emma gaged at about 6-7 years older than her and Lady Blanchard, threw the apple at Emma.

“Now, Miss Swan, this is not the Garden of Eden so do not fret about eating my forbidden fruit. It is yours to enjoy,” she drawled with a barely noticeable wink at Emma.   

The blonde easily caught the fruit in a gesture which showed the ball games she had played with the other orphans on the dirty streets of London. The apple was warmed by the autumn sun and felt firm and unbruised.

Mary Margaret started talking about their plans to sketch and what she was trying to do with her magpie sketch, however the Baroness barely seemed to notice. She was still looking at Emma in equal parts amusement and curiosity.

Emma felt like the chocolate-brown eyes were seeing through her into the very depth of her soul. Her skin felt warm and on the way to goosebumps wherever the Baroness’ look travelled, but still she sat immobile and prepared to catch the gaze of the older woman when it once more returned to her own eyes.

This confusion could not continue, Emma had to know what secrets the Baroness was hiding and what her strange behaviour meant. When it came to the secrets, she knew very well that she could not ask outright without being very rude indeed and risking her employment with Lady Blanchard.

The strange behaviour, however, now that she could try to figure out. She was good at reading people and she had realised that what was throwing her usual astuteness in regards to the Baroness was the fact that the brunette was behaving as something she was not - A man. She took freedoms, did not care for her reputation and looked at women in a predatory fashion.

Many things could be blamed on her being a foreigner, her rudeness, her disregard for the social rules of polite society, her tendency to be too forthright and her brash dress sense… but the one thing that even a foreign woman could not get away with was behaving in a masculine way.

The way the Baroness treated her was the same way many rich rogues had treated Emma since she became a fully grown woman, the assessing and hungry looks, the flirtatious speech, the challenge in those long gazes, the direct eye contact and most of all the lack of small gestures to create comfort and companionship between them that ladies usually clung to.

Most of Emma’s female pupils had been affectionate and petted and embraced her as they became dear friends, as was the tendency between modern ladies, but somehow there was more intimacy in the way that the Baroness looked at her than there had ever been in one of her employers or friends kissing her forehead or caressing her hair.

When the Baroness looked at her Emma got the strange sensation that the Baroness was gaging what she might look like in the nude. It was most vexing and yet… strangely fascinating.

Emma had of course heard rumours of women becoming more passionate than socially accepted with friends and companions, but rumours was all it had been.

She recalled a benefactor of her orphanage warning her that her boyish behaviour and preference for boy’s clothes would lead to what the adults called _morbidity_. It had taken a long but vague explanation from her older bed mate until Emma understood that the warning had been that boyish behaviour could mean that she lost the ability to love boys and instead loved girls. She had laughed it off as silly but now she wondered if her preference for trousers were what made her enjoy the piercing gaze of the Baroness.   

As these thoughts scurried around in her mind, Emma realised that Lady Blanchard had said something. She quickly tuned back into the present and realised that her ladyship was trying to convince her to give the Baroness drawing lessons as well. 

The Baroness clasped her hands and gave a quick bemused smile. “Dearest Mary Margaret, I am afraid I was endowed with some skill at the piano forte but none at the drawing board. I would not want to waste poor Miss Swan’s time with my clumsy attempts at sketching.”

Emma did not have time to stop her mouth from uttering the words. “Tish-tosh, everyone can sketch a little. It doesn’t have to be skilled as long as it is enjoyable.”

The Baroness looked at her with an expression that struck Emma as more heartfelt than usual, it seemed to have something more honest and humble about it than the usual mask of sneer and superiority that the foreigner wore.

“I was about to say that I am sure you could _make it enjoyable_ _for me_ but allow me to forego my usual coarse jests and instead enquire just how you would have me start this task of _sketching a little?_ “

Emma answered her immediately and with a welcoming smile. “Why, by seating yourself with us and borrowing my sketching pad and pencil.”

“Do you not plan to use them yourself,” the Baroness asked with a raised eyebrow and something of her former smirk playing at her full lips.

Emma stood up. “Not if they can be put to the good use of showing you the joy of drawing, Baroness,” she answered with a small flourished bow.  

“There! Now you must take her seat and her drawing pad, Regina. It would be rude not to,” Lady Blanchard said with a laugh.

The Baroness had to give a small chuckle as well and took the proffered seat by the tree and picked up Emma’s abandoned pad and pencil.

Emma crouched down next to her and said, “now, choose something you feel interested in enough to sketch.”

The Baroness let her gaze linger at Emma’s chest and then gave her a grin which seemed to have buckets full of hidden meaning. “Would my drawing instructor be an appropriate choice?”

Emma could not stop herself from giving a reproachful grimace. “I thought you had stopped your course jests, Baroness?”

“Oh there was nothing course about my words, dear,” the Baroness drawled smugly.

“Perhaps not, but what your words lacked in coarseness your tone of voice and expression made up for tenfold,” Emma reprimanded, not thinking to censor her words in front of Lady Blanchard.

The Baroness gave a playful pout and sighed dramatically before looking around. Her keen eyes seemed to fix on a hedge of dusky pink roses closer to the river bank.

“If you would be so kind to fetch me one of those roses I shall attempt to sketch it for you, but lord have mercy on your soul if you mock my attempts!”

“I would never mock a pupil’s first attempt,” Emma answered gravely and honestly.

“Ah, but I am not officially your pupil,” the Baroness replied with another of her signature smirks.

“Not yet, Baroness, but if you take to today’s lesson… perhaps that will change,” Emma replied and found herself giving another theatrical bow which made Lady Blanchard giggle and the Baroness scoff.

Emma strode towards the rose bushes. She took her time and finally choose the most beautiful and fragrant rose she could see and plucked it with a sharp snap.

As she brought it back to the two brunettes sitting by the trees, she noticed that there was a pressed silence. Lady Blanchard looked pinched and sad and the Baroness seemed angry and hurt. Although Emma supposed she might be reading their body language and expressions incorrectly and settled for the conclusion of that they had quarrelled while she was away.

Wanting to break the tension, Emma handed the Baroness the rose with another bow and mumbled, “a flower only half as beautiful as the woman who receives it.”

This had the desired effect of once again making Lady Blanchard giggle and making the Baroness’ dark eyes glitter with something Emma could not quite decipher. Emma was struck by the realisation that she was the one taking on the male role of seducer now.

It certainly broke the ice anyway and soon she and the Baroness were arranging where to lay the flower for best effect while Lady Blanchard returned to sketching her magpie.  

With the rose in a good position, Emma gave some pointers on how to hold the pen and which part of the rose to begin drawing. The Baroness listened intently and did attempt to follow Emma’s advice. However, her first lines were crooked and would make the stem disproportionate to the flower.  

Emma soon sat down close to the woman and, completely forgetting her place, leaned over and used her finger to show the angle and length of the first lines. The Baroness tried to recreate them with the pencil and almost made it. It was so close but still not right and it grated on Emma. There was potential here but it was just out of reach!

Frustrated and excited all in one, Emma became bold and gently placed her fingertips over the Baroness’ slim hand and asked, “may I show you?”

A shiver seemed to run through the older woman at Emma’s touch and the blonde wondered if she should be flattered or apologetic about that. Or perhaps both?

“You may,” the Baroness replied in an even lower voice then her usual rich timbre.

Emma placed her hand over the Baroness’ and guided the pencil over the paper. She just barely registered how soft the older woman’s hand was and how she could feel the slightly protruding veins on the back of it, so busy was she with ensuring the first important lines of the rose to be correct.

As soon as it was done and the pencil came to rest at the edge of the outline of the top rose petal, Emma was snapped back to reality and the fact that she was being far too forward and far too intimate with one of her superiors.

Still, Lady Blanchard was still drawing her sleeping bird contentedly and the Baroness was merely looking at her with rapt attention, so it would seem that all hell was not about to break loose.

Emma moved her hand away from the other woman’s and quietly stammered, “I-I am terribly sorry.”

“I am not,” came the surprisingly quiet and subdued reply from the Baroness.

The silence fell around them but it was not unpleasant. Still, the Baroness took it upon herself to fill it and to return them to their strange banter and away from the sudden vulnerability they seemed to have stumbled into.

“It is quite a marvel, is it not? The rose, I mean. Look at all those beautiful petals, perfectly pink and soft. ‘Tis a shame there is no dew upon the soft pink lips of that delicate flower.”

Emma had to pretend to cough to hide her belly laugh at the blunt sexual innuendo of the older woman’s words. The Baroness looked very pleased with herself and poor lady Blanchard seemed more perturbed by the fact that her magpie had just woken up and was currently flying away.

Sadly, or perhaps luckily, the loss of her model made their hostess take an interest in sketching the rose as well and there were no more flirtations as the three women focused on how to best capture the likeness of the rose on paper.

 

* * *

 

It was three hours later when they had concluded their lesson and gone their separate ways that Emma visited the library in search of information. She had committed herself to finding out more about the Baroness’ strange behaviour and there might just be some answers in one of the books that adorned the shelves of the small but well stocked library in Whitewater Place.

Emma scoured what few medical books she found and even leafed through one called _How the peculiar mechanics of a lady’s mind works_ , apparently the good Lord Blanchard had wanted literature which could help him understand his wife, but it was all to no avail. There were no mentions of morbidity, depraved sexual behaviour in women or even a hint of women’s passions for each other.

Emma grimaced at a book which seemed to think that the chief medical facts to know about women were that they had a tendency for hysteria and that they might die during childbirth. Neither was of any help to Emma and her mood darkened.

She was gazing horror-struck at a stippled image of instruments that could be used during childbirth, as Lord Blanchard came rushing in. The man constantly blew through the house as if the power of life itself propelled his every move. Emma wondered if he ever stopped to think before acting and while looking at his earnest and cheerful face decided that he probably did not. 

She suddenly realised what she had been looking at and the profound embarrassment at a gentleman finding her partaking in such literature hit her full force. She slammed the medical book closed.

“Oh… ah... Lord Blanchard! I was just... eh… looking for a book on… um… card games!”

Lord Blanchard’s brows knitted. “Card games?”

“Yes, considering my father’s pious nature and my mother’s detest of gambling, I never got a chance to learn how to play at cards. I thought I would remedy that by reading up on the matter,” Emma said in a surprisingly convincing tone of voice.

Lord Blanchard looked even more puzzled now and scratched his neck before replying. “Oh, I see. Well, I am not sure you will find them in the medical section, Miss Swan.”

Emma felt like she wanted to disappear into thin air. What sort of con artist lies so badly? This was all the distracting Baroness’ fault! “Oh. Right. No. Silly of me.”

Suddenly the man standing before Emma seemed to have an idea and looked excited. “Unless of course you were looking for how card games effect the physical state of the players!”

Emma did not quite know what to say. First she thought that the sweet man was just humouring her but as he continued to ramble on about quickened heartbeats and sweating brows Emma realised that his Lordship might just be a sandwich or two short of a full picnic.

Her diagnosis of the man before was the same as that of his wife, lovely, kind, funny and certainly a good person but…. Not the sharpest tool in the shed.

“… and that was how I got a paper cut by the eight of spades,” Lord Blanchard finished his intriguing tale about wounds you could sustain when playing cards.

Emma smiled and nodded. “Perhaps the medical angle is an interesting one but I should probably just admit that I was in the wrong section. Do you know if you have any books on card games?”

Lord Blanchard hummed and knitted his brows again. “I think not, I am afraid. I and my dear wife are however skilled Whist players, perhaps one evening you will allow us to teach you the game?”

Emma sighed a relief that there was a natural way out of this farce now. “Yes, I would appreciate that a great deal!”

“It is settled then,” said his lordship with a beaming smile.

 


	6. Pianissimo

When Emma had managed to finally make her escape from the library, and the well-meaning Lord Blanchard, she decided to go to her room and finish a watercolour painting she had started of Killian the dog eating the fake cherries off of his owner’s hat.

That was until the sound of a slow melody drifted towards her from the upper drawing room. She walked up the stairs, following the slightly melancholy melody which was played with skill and feeling. The music seemed to seep into Emma’s skin and move inside her. It was not a piece of music Emma had ever heard before but then she had not listened to much piano music in her life.

What little she had heard when the Duchess instructed her in enough culture and trivia to pass for someone with breeding, had mainly included the most famous melodies and in all honesty; Emma had forgotten far too much of it already.

She did not have a musical bone in her body but she was enjoying the music more than ever right now. She walked into the room and looked over to the piano only to find the Baroness by the keys. Of course. It would be her, wouldn’t it?

The older woman looked up swiftly as Emma entered the room and her fingers paused on the keys for the briefest of moments.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Emma quickly said.

The Baroness dipped her head in acknowledgement. “No need for apologies, I am afraid I do get too lost in the music while I play and I startle easily,” she said and continued playing.

There was no friendly smile or the usual confident smirk on the Baroness’ plump lips now. Instead there seemed to be a tension in the woman’s face. Perhaps a sadness? Could it be connected to the argument that she had with Lady Blanchard under the apple tree? Emma could not be sure without knowing the woman better, sadly the Baroness did not strike her as a person you got to know so easily. Emma felt a compelling need to try though.     

“Might I disturb you further and ask what piece this is? I do not know it although it does sound vaguely familiar,” Emma lied.

“Of course, I am afraid I am not very good company today but I should like a chance to speak with you and get to know you a little better. Do please sit down next to me.”

As Emma brought a chair over the Baroness gave a sad little laugh.

“I meant next to me on the piano bench but by all means, if you prefer to keep a polite distance that is fine with me. I would however like to make it very clear that I do not bite. Much.”

Emma felt her cheeks heat at the idea of sitting so close to the daunting Baroness.

“I would not like to curb your range of movement, I am enjoying your playing far too much,” Emma said politely.

“Ah, what a clever way of returning us back to the safe topic of the music. Well done, Miss Swan. Had you been Mary Margaret or her hapless husband you would not have been able to steer me off my chosen topic of conversation so easily.”

The Baroness fell quiet and seemed to strike a false note. She corrected the note, sighed and continued speaking.  

“I am sorry, Miss Swan, you find me in a somewhat maudlin mood right now. The piece I am playing is the Andante cantabile of Mozart’s Piano Sonata number 13. I was attempting his Requiem before you arrived but that depressed even me in my already low spirits.”

Emma did not know how to respond and sat quietly enjoying the music for a few seconds. She could see the Baroness’ hands clearly from this angle and marvelled at how quickly and deftly they moved over the keys.

The long fingers seemed to know every movement as if they had done nothing else in their life and Emma watched the muscles move under the skin on the back of the Baroness’ hands. The skin was such a lovely tanned hue and the mesh of slightly raised veins moved with the muscles underneath as if they were dancing to the slow music.

Emma had to speak to stop herself from staring hypnotized. “You are very talented. Where did you learn to play?”

“My father taught me. He was a brilliant piano player and an amateur composer before his untimely death,” the Baroness replied as she played on, completely without sheet music or any apparent need to concentrate.   

Emma winced. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. He and I had a special bond. I am afraid I was a terrible daughter and had a clear favourite amongst my parents. It broke my heart in two when he died.”

“How dreadful. I feel that I must add that as someone who has lost both parents I know that a break in two can be mended,” Emma said with her voice laced with tenderness and understanding.

“Ah, now it is my turn to be sorry for _your_ loss. You are right, however, it can be mended. Unless another death follows it soon after and breaks the heart even further. Then it is not so easy and it never quite heals completely.”

“Another death? Now I am doubly sorry. May I be so discourteous as to ask whom else you lost?”

The Baroness gave a mirthless laugh. “Now that is something you need to ask dear _Lady Blanchard_ about.” She spat out the woman’s title instead of saying Mary Margaret as she normally did and this showed Emma the animosity that lingered there.

“You mean to say that her ladyship was somehow involved in the death?”

“Involved? Oh my dear, try _involuntarily responsible_. But that is all ancient history.  As with everything in my life, my mother was the one to blame at the heart of the matter,” the Baroness said tersely.

“Is you mother still with us?”

The Baroness seemed to hesitate and covered it up by pretending to stumble over the next few notes in the sonata. “No, she is not.”

Too much had been said too soon for two so secretive people and it quieted them both. Emma searched her mind for something innocuous to talk about. Why was it that she did not seem to be able to keep to polite small-talk with this woman? It was all or nothing.

“So. You travelled here from Geneva? Were you born there?”

The Baroness watched her own hands slide over the keys effortlessly as she replied. “No, I was born on a ship as a matter of fact. My mother and father was travelling from Spain to England so I could be born in my mother’s homeland. Sadly I was a month early and my mother had to give birth on a ship on a windy day in the middle of the sea, something she never let me forget.”

Emma smiled. “So you were a born traveller from day one then?”

“It would seem so, yes. Perhaps I have a wandering spirit or perhaps I have simply never found a place to truly call home. One way or another, I feel it in my bones when it is time to move on. Circumstances get complicated, people get hurt or as often is the case, I get bored. So I send my things on to wherever I wish to travel and then I take the nearest carriage, train or boat.”

Emma looked down at her hands. “It sounds exciting. I must admit to never having been outside of England.”

“My dear girl, you do surprise me! Is it due to lack of funds or lack of interest that you have not ventured further?”

Emma clasped her hands in her lap. “The first I am afraid.”

“Oh do not be afraid to admit that, there would be more shame in you refusing to travel because you had no interest in the world around you. Ah, there is my unfortunate tendency to judge and to speak too harshly, naturally it is up to each individual to decide what they wish to do with their lives.”

Emma grinned. “But you do recommend traveling, I gather?”

“Very much so. Traveling washes your eyes clean of the dust that mundane life dirties them with. It challenges you and makes you grow. Although, I must say that you are surprisingly quick of mind and open of heart for someone who has not travelled.”

Emma looked out into the room as she pondered this. “Perhaps it is because I do my traveling via other people? I learn from their experience and their way of seeing things. Take you for example, I have a feeling I could learn as much from exploring you that I could by exploring Geneva.”

As soon as Emma had said it she recognised the slight tone of flirtation in her own voice and the double entendre of her words. Now it appeared to be her that was flirting!

“Oh dear Miss Swan, the things you could learn from exploring _me_ , nothing else could ever offer you,” the Baroness replied with three times as much flirtation in her rich, low voice.

Emma chuckled. “If you do not think me impertinent I must say that you really are impressively confident, Baroness.”

The brunette had begun playing another piece a moment ago and this one was livelier. Emma hoped that it was her company which had lightened the Baroness’ mood.

“That is rather impertinent from a mere drawing tutor, yes. But as it is coming from an intriguing and highly attractive woman, I will allow it. And yes, I am confident. Or at least I give off that impression. We both know that showing insecurity, or weakness if you like, does not work well for our kind.”

“ _Our kind_ , Baroness?” Emma enquired with raised eyebrows.

“People who keep secrets, my dear. And do feel free to call me Regina when we are alone. I wish to hear what it will sound like in your nicely polished posh accent and then perhaps one day I can hear it in your real one.” 

Emma opened her mouth to say that she did not know what she meant but when the Baroness looked at her with a glance that said _do not even try it_. Emma chuckled softly before replying.

“Of course, _Regina_. And I’ll wait patiently to hear what you hide behind your foreign façade and that high wall of flirtation and confrontation you put up.”

Regina laughed and began to play a happy minuet as she drawled, “Touché, ma belle fille. Touché.”


	7. Whist

Lord Blanchard happily informed the company present that they would all be playing Whist later that evening to instruct Miss Swan in the splendid game.

The Baroness quirked an eyebrow. “How singular! You mean to tell me that you have never played Whist? Tell me, Miss Swan... have you in fact been living under a rock?”

Emma allowed herself a glare in the direction of the older woman, after the day they had Emma was certain that she would not be dismissed from her position simply from showing her annoyance.  

“No I have not. I have simply never dared to admit that I never learned the rules properly as a young girl.”

This was of course a lie as something as complicated as Whist had never been played in the circles where Emma had moved. Well, not until the Duchess got her claws in her at least. The Duchess had showed her how to play Whist together with two boys that she had employed as little helpers. However, Emma was trying hard not to think about that woman as it was alarming to think that the Duchess of Blueborough could pop in for afternoon tea and blow Emma’s cover any day now.

Instead of letting those thoughts linger, Emma smiled inwardly as she mused that if they had suggested a game of Snap, Put or even Old Maid she could have won with her eyes closed. It wouldn’t be a bad way to earn a few bob either, but Emma wanted to stay in the good grace of these people and so she merely thanked Lord Blanchard for agreeing to teach her.

Another thought bubbled up inside her, she would most likely be paired up with the Baroness for the game as the Blanchard’s would wish to play as a team. She had to admit that it was an agreeable thought. Not just because the Baroness, or Regina as she was trying to call her in her own mind, was clever and plainly apt at planning a playing routine, but also because Emma knew that she would not give their hosts any clue of their strategy.

As soon as dinner was settled they all took coffee in the drawing room and set up the game.

Regina waltzed in and took the seat she preferred. “I shall play with Miss Swan so that you two lovebirds do not have to be parted.”

“Oh, we do not mind parting. We always find each other again,” Lady Blanchard said and beamed at her husband.

Regina made a nauseated face at those words and then bent down to brush away some of Killian’s dog hairs from the hem of her dress instead of replying.

“That’s very true, my dearest treasure,” Lord Blanchard said with a happy smile at his wife. “And I do believe it might be better for Miss Swan to be teamed up with an experienced Whist player like me or Mary Margaret, we have weekly matches with Lord and Lady Midas.”

Regina gave an amused sneer. “Oh well, considering I have only played this particular game since before you were both born and once even played it with the Tsar of Russia, I suppose I should bow to your _expertise_.”  

“Before we were born..?” Lord Blanchard asked in surprised.

“Tsar of Russia?” Lady Blanchard asked wide-eyed right after her husband spoke.

“Yes, I am seven years older than Mary Margaret and I first played Whist when I was five or six, sitting next to Mother and helping her win against the Earl of Norbury. Or trying to help anyway as I was somewhat hazy on the rules at that age. And yes, I stayed with the Tsar during my first visit to Russia together with my husband, the late Baron, some years ago. The visit was pleasant enough, but far too cold for my liking.”

Regina once again tried to get rid of the stubborn dog hairs on the hem of her lavish dress while the other three stood gobsmacked and silent around her.

Emma was the first to speak. “As the Baroness says, we could not possibly break up a married couple. I can play with the Baroness and take advice from all three of you as we play.”

Lord Blanchard nodded silently and Lady Blanchard was busy gazing at her older relative as if the woman had just admitted to being able to spin gold out of hay.  

The adoring look seemed to irritate Regina and she made an annoyed grimace. “Oh do let’s get on with it!”

Emma sat opposite Regina as the game required and the other two took the other chairs. After a brief explanation of the rules it was decided that Emma would learn more if she learned as they played. Everyone vowed to allow any mistakes she might make and the Baroness promised to coach Emma as much as she could, which included rising from her seat a few times to inspect Emma’s cards to ensure she was playing them correctly.

Every time Emma felt the other woman lean over her shoulder and whisper advice in her ear she would shiver with pleasure. Even if it was immoral, there was something so wonderfully natural and enticing about being physically close to this other woman.

One of the times when Regina whispered advice on what to do at the next trick in Emma’s ear, she felt those painted lips brush against her ear and immediately spouted goosebumps all over her skin. She prayed that the Baroness had not noticed, but as the older woman sat down and gave Emma a surreptitious little wink, Emma knew that Regina was all too well aware of how that touch had affected her. And that the touch had been deliberate.  

The game continued. As Emma did in fact know how to play and as Regina was every bit as skilled at the game as her statements had made out, they won easily and completely. Emma had to hand it to the Blanchard’s though, they were exceptionally good losers and only laughed and congratulated the _Whist Wonder Child_ on her wins.

Emma made a few deliberate mistakes of course. Partly so that her rudimentary knowledge of the game wouldn’t show but also so that Regina would make her sojourn around the table to lean in over Emma’s shoulder and eventually whisper in her ear.

It was hard to say what was most intoxicating, the sound of Regina’s warm, raspy voice or the unique scent that always lingered around the foreign woman. Emma made a mental note to one day ask what that particular scent was. If only a social situation where a query like that would be suitable would arise, of course.

Soon Lady Blanchard hid a yawn behind her delicate hand and the Baroness, catching the gesture, spoke.

“Oh dear, it seems we have fatigued out hostess. Perhaps we shall end our game here? I am growing weary of this hard chair and wish to take some air.”

Emma looked up at Regina at those words, ashamed of how eager she was for the Baroness to quit the drawing room so that she could sneak after her and be alone with the intriguing woman.

Everyone agreed to end the game and Lord and Lady Blanchard decided on a small glass of sherry before bed. The Baroness made her excuses and headed down the hallway to the wrought iron balcony.

Emma waited for a few minutes, counting the seconds in her head until she could not stand waiting anymore. Then she rose, declined the offer of a sherry, and excused herself to get some air as well.

As she walked toward the balcony, and could see Regina out there through the glass doors, she remembered their conversation on that very balcony the night Emma had escaped running into the Duchess. Was it really only a few days ago? It felt like she had known Regina for so much longer and yet… the woman was still a complete stranger to her.

She opened the glass doors and stepped out. “May I join you?”

Regina turned to smile at her. “If I say yes and indicate the space next to me, will you go fetch a chair to sit further away?”

“No, I think I might just be brave enough to stand right next to you this time, Baroness.”

The brunette frowned at her.

“Oh sorry, yes. I meant _Regina_ ,” Emma corrected herself.

Regina rewarded her with a smile and then continued looking out at the garden.

“It is quite dark but I think I can still make out the rose bush from which you plucked that rose for me. I am sorry I did not draw it very well.”

“Sketch, not draw, and do not worry yourself. You are new to the art and most certainly better at it than I am at playing the piano forte,” Emma said with a shrug.

Regina laughed. “How easy it is to be in your company. How relaxed you make me feel. It is a rare feeling for me.”

“I am glad to hear it and I share that feeling. I am much less guarded with you than with anyone else if I am to be frank,” Emma retorted. As she spoke she looked out at the garden to avoid eye contact in her moment of vulnerability.

Regina’s voice had taken on a dreamy quality as she replied. “Perhaps it is because we are strangely alike.”

“We? We are hardly alike, _Baroness_ ,” Emma pointed out.

“Oh, do not let the title fool you, dear. I married into that and what is more, I did so while deceiving my husband to think I was of higher birth than I am. I shall reveal one of my many secrets to you, Emma Swan…” here she paused to look up at the stars before speaking again.

“…ever since I was a child, my mother has exaggerated the nobility of our bloodline. Truthfully, my only known connection to the higher echelons of society is dear little Mary Margaret in there, and to be honest I do not believe we share more than one or two drops of the same blood.”

“You mean to say that your parents were not aristocracy of some ilk?”

“No. My mother always pretended to be but in honesty her father was a mere merchant with a weak claim to a duchy somewhere in Prussia. My father was rich enough, but he had made his money in shipping, hence our constant traveling.”

Emma whistled low.

Regina snapped her head towards Emma and her brown eyes burned darkly. “I hasten to add, Miss Swan, that if you breathe a word of this to any living soul… I will destroy you, if it is the last thing I do!”

“Well now, there is a threat I can easily believe,” Emma said with a pacifying smile. “But I can guarantee that your secret is as safe with me as I believe mine to be with you. How did you guess that I was not as posh as I let on?”

Regina’s eyes returned to their usual chocolate warmth and a smile crept onto those beautiful, full lips.

“Ah, now I am loathed to admit it, but that was a guess. I could tell that you were hiding something and a few times I thought I caught a hint of a cockney accent there somewhere. Are you from East London?”

“Well, yes, my orphanage was located there. Do please let me know if I ever slip into the accent ever again, my career and rather comfortable lifestyle will be over if people find out what I really am,” Emma said as she furrowed her brow.

In an unexpected gesture, Regina reached out a hand and caressed the back of her fingers against Emma’s warm cheek.

“Do not worry, your secret is safe with me and I will assist you in any way I can.”

With surprising bravery, Emma caught the cool hand and opened it so that she could press Regina’s palm against her cheek instead.

“Thank you, Regina. And please believe me when I say that I echo that sentiment and promise.”

“Of course,” Regina breathed and stared shamelessly at Emma’s pink, soft lips.

Emma felt panic rise in her chest. Was _a woman_ about to kiss her? The lord save her soul but she hoped that was the case. Nothing this clear cut and lovely could be sinful, surely?

Regina took a step closer but then froze before taking the next step and closing the distance between them. Emma noticed that she was holding her breath in anticipation. Then the Baroness cleared her throat and blinked a few times until the hazy look was gone from her eyes.

“Well. I daresay we should join our hosts in a glass of sherry before bed.”

Sorely disappointed, Emma merely nodded and grudgingly opened the door that would lead them back into the house.


	8. Things shared in the dark

It was early morning and Regina stood in front of the mirror in her room. She was supposed to be adjusting her lace collar but instead she was staring at her reflection with loathing. She was not angry with the collar, she was angry with her treacherous feelings. She was angry with the constant urge to go find Emma Swan.

There was this voice in her head which always seemed to want her to seek the beautiful blonde out and enjoy her company. That voice would not listen to reason.

Regina sighed and smoothed the frown off her face. If there was one thing she had learned in her life it was that certain demons could not be fought, they just had to be subdued. She would subdue this little demon voice by finding Miss Swan and making her give another one of those charming little smiles.

She strode from the room and began to scour Whitewater Place for the drawing teacher. None of the rooms offered her a sight of the tall woman with her pinned up blonde curls.

Finally Regina swallowed her pride and stopped a maid to ask if she had seen Miss Swan.

“No, milady… I mean _Baroness_. Miss Swan did not ring for me as she usually does in the morning. She normally wants her breakfast on a tray so she can go out for one of her long morning walks, but not today. I wouldn’t have no clue to where she is.”

“ _I do not have a clue_ or _I would not know_. You cannot amalgamate those sentences,” Regina snapped.

She was not actually annoyed with the maid, it was just that in this house it would not do to blow up at the people who really annoyed her and so the servants had to suffer her ire. She reminded herself to leave them a handsome tip when she left Greenwich to make up for her conduct.

The maid whispered an apology and made to leave. Regina made an irritated face and forced herself to form the words. “Thank you, dear. Do please let me know if you find her.”

The maid gave a shy smile and promised she would, she curtsied and then scurried down the hall. Regina huffed out a breath and resumed her search while berating herself for sinking so low as spending her morning searching for a pretty girl. But then… Emma was so much more than just a pretty girl.

A few moments later she was down in the kitchen with the aim to ask the staff there if they had seen the missing woman. Considering that Emma ate like a starved bear it was not unlikely that they would be the first to see her, especially if she had skipped breakfast.

As she searched for the person in charge of the kitchen, which was surprisingly ample for a townhouse, she spotted something with her unusually keen eyesight. On the bannister of the stairs leading down to the food cellar and pantry she saw a white knitted shawl.

She walked over to it and saw that the shawl was indeed the one that Emma had used around her shoulders on chilly evenings in the drawing room. It had gotten snagged on the bannister rail and seemingly been abandoned there by its wearer.

Regina took a step down the stairs so she could not be seen from the kitchen and brought the shawl up to her nose. Yes, it smelled of Emma’s natural scent and lavender soap.

With the shawl grasped in one hand, Regina walked down the stairs to see if she could find more clues to where the irritating woman had roamed off to. As she went further into the cold and clammy basement she could hear a muted pounding. As her hearing was as good as her eyesight, she merely followed the sound until she came to a thick door leading into the root cellar.

Suddenly Regina heard a shout, which was muted by the thick door. “Oh god, please someone hear me.”

Regina scoffed and gave a little relieved smile. So that was where Emma Swan was.

“No need to refer to me as god, but yes, I hear you,” she enunciated loudly through the door, knowing very well that her voice usually carried without her having to resort to something as base as shouting.

When Emma replied her voice sounded hoarse and Regina realised that the blonde must have been shouting for quite a while.

“Regina!? Oh good heavens, you found me! Get me out of here!”

“Oh, so you are not in there by choice? You did not wake with an unrelenting urge to nibble a turnip?”

“Baroness von Mille! I am not joking here, if you do not wish to make an enemy out of me… get me out of here at once!”

Regina smirked and gave a pleased hum. “ _Well now_ , look how assertive and dominant you can be! Careful, you might wake my womanly feelings for you.”

There was a groan from the other side of the door. “Please, Regina. Not now, I would love to play games with you another time but right now I really do want to get out. I am hungry, cold and I am not too fond of small spaces.”

Regina’s smile died on her face as he realised how distressed Emma sounded. “Of course. However, looking at the door I do not believe I can open it. I think it has locked when you shut it too hard. Allow me to go fetch the housekeeper with the keys.”

“Alright… but Regina?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Can you come right back? In case there is a delay in getting me out. I hate to admit this... but I am rather shaken and do not wish to be alone.”

Regina’s heart gave a painful thud at the vulnerable tone in the otherwise so strong and capable woman’s voice.

Her response came before she could check the emotion in her voice. “Of course, mein Schatze. In fact… I might have a better solution. I shall call to the kitchen staff from the stairs and _they_ can fetch the housekeeper.” 

“Thank you,” Emma replied weakly. 

Regina walked up a couple of the steps and then bellowed in a most unladylike way for someone to assist her.

There seemed to be some confusion upstairs but soon a pudgy woman in an apron looked down the stairs.

“Ah, finally. Miss Swan has been locked in the root cellar, tell the housekeeper that we need her and her keys and make haste!”

“Of course, Baroness,” the woman said with a swift curtsy and disappeared out of view.

Regina walked back to the thick door separating her from the younger woman on the other side.

“There, the housekeeper is being brought down here. Now it is only a matter of time. And as we have that time… perhaps you wish to enlighten me as to why you are in there?”

Regina was not sure but she thought she could hear a faint and embarrassed sigh from inside the root cellar.

“I… well, I got up early to take my morning stroll and came to the kitchen to nab an apple or something to eat as I walked. Then I saw a strange man sneaking into the kitchen and down these stairs. He looked like he was up to no good.”

Regina quirked an eyebrow. “I see, and your first thought was not to alert the butler or call for help?”

Another faint sigh. “I am afraid I tend to be a little more hands on than that. I grabbed a thick water jug as a weapon and followed him down here. I... thought he had gone in here so I stepped in and told him to show himself and then explain his actions. Sadly he was on the outside and slammed the door shut behind me.”

“Ah. Well foolish as that was, it was highly heroic. Perhaps I should employ you as my private guard,” Regina drawled in an attempt to distract Emma from her situation.

“Ha! Yes, please do! I could use the steady employment and I promise to keep all strange men out of your basement.”

Regina gave a mock-gasp. “Why Miss Swan, was that alluding to keeping gentlemen out of my drawers?”

“It was unless that offends you, if it does I was merely alluding to keeping prowlers away from your living quarters,” Emma half-shouted with a voice that sounded much braver now.

“It does not offend me. In fact it pleases me greatly that you are joining in my game,” Regina enunciated with her lips merely an inch from the door.

Emma’s reply was delayed. “Is that what it is? A game?”

“What do you mean?”

“May I speak plainly, Baroness? May I ask the question that kept me up all night and drove me out of bed early this morning,” Emma asked in a desperate voice.

Regina swallowed nervously. “Yes, you may.”

Emma’s voice sounded tense and edgy. “What do you want with me?”

Regina waited in silence as she weighed her possible replies in her mind.

“I… am not sure. I have made advances towards women like you before, women who are brave and open-minded and seem like they can handle a double entendre. But you… you make me want to share myself with you in a way that I haven’t done since I fell in love for the first, and only, time in my life.”

A sound was heard through the door. Regina thought it sounded like a stifled squeak of joy.

“I am so very relieved to hear that, Regina. I am exceedingly confused in my interest in you, but I know as much as to say that it is not only an interest in what is under your dress. Although I must admit a shameful amount of interest in that as well.”

Regina wondered if it was the situation or their strange burgeoning bond that made them so uncharacteristically open with each other. There was something freeing with standing here in the damp dark and with a door between them. There was a feeling of that what was said down here would stay here and not be examined in the cruel light.  

She smiled and leaned her forehead against the door. “Tell me about your interests in me.”

“I…well… I… am not that good with words. I do know that any place where you are becomes more interesting. I know that I cannot stop thinking about you. I know that I am feeling for you what I have watched countless women feel for men, but that I have never quite understood. I understand it now. You seem to have gotten under my skin so very fast, Baroness.”

“It is true that we haven’t known each other for very long. But then people who have known one another for shorter time, and have only ever scratched the surface of each other’s hearts with polite words and compliments, become married. You are under my skin as well, Miss Swan.”

“Then do me the honour of calling me Emma.”

“I will… if you tell me about your interest in what is under my dress,” Regina drawled and then bit her lip, a gesture that she hadn’t done since she was a young girl.

She faintly heard Emma chuckle. “I shall only say that when I undressed last night I found my body awakened in a way it had never been before and I blame it entirely on your plump lips brushing my ear and your scent entering my nostrils and lingering in me.”

Regina closed her eyes and allowed her hands to join her forehead in leaning against the cold door.

“I wish I could have been the one to find your body so awakened. After all, it was due to a seed I have sown, I should have been allowed to reap the harvest,” Regina said in her deepest timbre.

Emma was quiet a long time and Regina worried that she had overwhelmed the young woman, who obviously was as unaccustomed to the passion between two women as most people were.

“I wished you had been there too. I was quite at a loss of what to do with myself,” Emma admitted in a more quiet voice. She was lucky that Regina’s hearing was as astute as it was.

Regina bit her lip once more and smiled so big that it almost hurt her cheeks.

“Surely you… _delved deeper_ into the matter and _handled_ the problem _satisfactorily_?”

“I… do not really engage in the activities you are alluding to,” Emma growled.

Regina lifted her head from leaning on the door as if she could look Emma in the eyes if she stared ahead. “You…. do not satisfy yourself?”

Emma’s tone sounded bothered and angry in embarrassment when she shouted back. “No, I believe actions of the flesh to be overrated.”

“You are… pure?” Regina asked incredulously.

Emma snorted. “Hardly! I have been with four men, if you count drunken fumblings with a drunken driver of a hansom cab, otherwise three.”

“Then why on earth did you not give yourself release last night?” Regina asked puzzled. It shocked her that anyone would deny themselves the pleasure that could be given under the sheets.

“Some people are not as invested in carnal acts as you, Baroness. But in my case, well I do not see the point as there never seems to be any actual release,” Emma snarled in clear annoyance

Regina’s eyes grew wide. Could it be that Emma had never climaxed? What a horrible sin for a woman so wonderful to never have experienced that highest of pleasures. This had to be remedied.

Suddenly there were footsteps on the stairs and Regina cursed in Spanish.

“Someone is here,” she informed Emma.

The housekeeper and Mary Margaret came bounding down the stairs and headed for the door.

Regina filled them in on what had happened to get Emma into this predicament and then how she had found the blonde. All while the housekeeper searched for the right key and then with some struggle unlocked the wooden door.

Emma came almost falling out and Regina realised that Emma must have been leaning against the door as she had been. The housekeeper sighed deeply and shook her head.

“What is it,” enquired Lady Blanchard.

“I am sorry, Milady. But I believe I know the culprit that Miss Swan was chasing. The gardener’s boy, Tom. He sometimes sneaks into the house in the morning and nicks food from the pantry. Tom has been warned about it before but his Lordship will not throw him and his father out as the boy is a little simple and a good lad at heart.”

The women all looked at each other. Mary Margaret with a furrowed forehead, Regina with her arms crossed and pursed lips, the housekeeper with a grimace of guilt and finally Emma who mainly looked shamefaced.

She was the first to speak. “Well, I suppose no harm was done. I did foolishly come done here on my own… and I would hate to have the poor gardener loose his position over this.”

Regina scoffed. “His position? What about you position _in there_? You could have rotted in there if I had not come looking for you to… lend you that book.”

Emma tried not to smile at the silly lie about the book or how affronted Regina was on her account. The daunting and stunning woman really did care for her.

Mary Margaret held her hand up. “I think we will simply have to ban the boy from the house and if he ever comes in here again his father _will_ lose his employment with us. After that, I and Lord Blanchard will allow his father to chastise him as he sees fit, he has always seemed a fair man.”

Emma nodded. “That sounds like a good solution to me, your ladyship.”

Regina merely scoffed again and said nothing.

They all returned upstairs. Emma allowed them all to leave before her so that she would be the one to follow Regina up the stairs. As they walked, she shyly extended her hand and briefly grasped Regina’s fingers in a gesture of gratefulness and intimacy.

Regina smiled and felt her chest heat with joy and slumbering emotion. She grabbed the hand and gave it a light squeeze, letting it go just as they left the stairs and came into the light.


	9. a much needed lesson

The day had passed quietly and painfully slowly. The only real activity taking place was the flurry of emotions filling both Emma and Regina.

Emma felt obsession grip her mind. During breakfast, Emma sat opposite the Baroness and she could faintly smell the scent of her. She cursed herself for letting the opportunity of asking what that smell was pass through her fingers when they had their heart to heart behind the door.

Throughout the following drawing lesson with Lady Blanchard, Emma could see the curve of Regina’s neck as she sketched a pear. Then afternoon came and Emma spent a long, fatiguing walk thinking about Regina’s eyes, mouth and that enticing tanned skin.

When she got back she laid down on the bed and groaned as she realised that not even a long walk could clear her stirrings. With the lack of sleep that night, the morning in the cellar and then the exercise of the day… Emma fell asleep and was woken much later by the dinner gong.

Regina had felt the need for Emma as well. She felt it in the tingling in her fingertips which denoted her need to touch the blonde and she felt it in the daydreams that crowded her usually focused mind.

She kept thinking about the way Emma moved, so forcefully and so confidently. She yearned to know what the drawing tutor’s young body looked like.

At one point she stood by her window and watched Emma draw with Mary Margaret down in the garden and she felt her eyes rake over Emma’s body, cursing the amount of clothing which covered the object of her desire.

Still, what little she could see _mesmerized_ her. That moonlight-pale skin and those sea-green eyes so full of secrets. Those high cheekbones, those pink lips that the blonde always licked when nervous and yes… what little of the blonde’s hidden body that had been shown to her; a strong wrist, those perfectly sculpted shoulders, an elegant neck adorned with imitation pearls… it all promised so much more beauty.

However, it was not just the young con artist’s body that beguiled Regina. There was the woman’s stubbornness, her strength, her kind heart, her good sense of humour, her wild past coupled with her surprising innocence – it all stoked the flame that seemed to burn in Regina’s chest now. Resisting Emma was no longer a choice.

Dinner passed like the day had, agonizingly slow. Chocolate-brown eyes met sea-green ones across the table and forbidden thoughts flowed through their minds.

Emma felt her hands sweat and her muscles tense. Regina felt the rosy tips of her breasts harden at the very sound of Emma’s voice. They both felt two needs war inside them, the need to get to know the other better and the need to get to know the other’s _body_ better.  

When Emma excused herself to go to bed early, feigning a headache, she found her hands trembling slightly. As she undressed and got ready for bed she felt her body betray her arousal just as it had last night. With eyes closed tight she let her finger slide over the slit of her sex and felt her fingers come away dripping with warm, oily liquid.

She felt strangely ashamed and yet strangely giddy about her own obvious need. Never had she been this wet and never had she wanted someone to soak up that wetness like she did now. That someone would have to be a certain exotic Baroness. 

With her eyes still tightly shut, Emma groaned and bent her head back. She felt flushed, as if she had a fever.

There was a knock at the door and it was soon followed by the sound of Regina’s voice whispering, “Emma. Let me in.”

Emma felt her hands begin to tremble again. She quickly pulled a nightgown over her head but did not bother with the drawers to save time. For some reason it was important to Emma that she seemed to have been in bed for a long time and most certainly not touching herself in any way or fashion.

She opened the door and Regina strode in, taking in Emma’s body in the long white nightgown with its lace trimming.

In a split second Regina decided to use Emma’s title and surname to make her suggestion more official and less intimate.

“Miss Swan. It is late so I shall get straight to the point. I have a simple offer for you. As you valiantly attempted to teach me to draw, my apologies... _sketch_ … I wanted to offer to teach you something in return.”

Emma’s brows knitted. “You mean playing the piano forte?”

Regina quickly hid a smirk. “No. Playing another instrument all together. Your own, to be exact.”

Emma looked confused.

“I wish to teach you how to climax, Miss Swan. From our conversation earlier today it became apparent that the men you have been with have failed in that aspect and that saddens me. Fret not, I realise that you are unaccustomed to the passion between women so I will not try to seduce you, what I am proposing is purely a lesson in a cold and clinical manner.”

Emma’s jaw actually dropped and she stared open-mouthed at Regina. The Baroness could not hide the smirk this time as she watched the pretty and gaping mouth of the woman opposite her.

“Of course, if you do not wish to learn or if you would prefer for me to just write down some instructions on a piece of paper, I can oblige,” Regina added with a small nod of the head.

“I… I…”, Emma stammered uselessly.

Regina sniffed the air and with a feral grin finished Emma’s sentence. “You… have started without me.”

Emma jolted. “I… I have no idea of what you speak!”

Regina slowly sauntered over to Emma and grabbed the blonde’s hand. She brought it up to her nose and breathed in the scent on the fingers.

“You have most certainly felt how ready you are for kind of lesson I suggest. I can smell it on your fingers and in the air.”

Emma cursed the fact that she hadn’t worn drawers but then realised that with Regina’s otherworldly senses, she probably would have smelled it through the underwear just as clearly.

Emma shifted her footing nervously and swallowed loudly.

Regina frowned. “I have made you uneasy. I should leave.”

“No… no, please stay. I would like… I would be obliged to you if you were to give me that lesson. I believe I need it more tonight than I ever have,” Emma whispered.

Regina did not know what to do with the woman in front of her. Emma was usually so cocky and comfortable in her own skin but now… she seemed like a young virgin on her wedding night.

It made Regina experience sensations of pity and tenderness but it also woke a sudden, animal need in her. How easy it would be to seduce Emma now, to ravish her almost nude body in the bed behind them. Oh how she could make that lithe body sing and that incredible woman whimper with pleasure.

But no. She had promised Emma she would not take advantage of her and she would keep that promise.  

With a voice deep and thick with pleasure, Regina merely said, “lay down on the bed.”

Emma nodded eagerly and licked her lips. As Emma got into her bed, Regina could see her tremble slightly and once again that tenderness for the blonde struck her heart.

Emma grabbed the covers and Regina held up a hand to stop her.

“No, I need to see some of what you are doing. Your night gown will preserve your dignity but I do need to see the outline of what is happening under there to know that you are doing things correctly,” Regina explained in what she hoped was a dispassionate voice.

Emma nodded and let go of the covers. She lay back down and, to Regina’s amazement, pulled her arm into her nightgown so that she could reach her sex without hiking up the nightgown and reveal herself to the Baroness.

“Clever,” Regina said with an approving nod. “Although I do wish you had not thought of it, as I must admit to have wanted to see those long legs of yours.” 

Emma laughed and some of her usual confidence was in her voice as she spoke.

“Oh, I am sure you did, Baroness. What a wicked creature you are.”

Regina gave a small giggle. “My dear Miss Swan, you have _no idea_.”

Suddenly Emma gave a shudder and Regina realised that the blonde’s hand had reached the sensitive apex of her thighs.

“Good,” Regina mumbled and stared intently at the hand covered by the white cotton fabric of the nightgown. She resisted the urge to lick her lips or bite her lower lip and ignored the moisture pooling between her thighs.

“Now, I want you to feel around in your wet little treasure trove. Can you feel a little nub at the top? It should be between your outer lips and it may be hidden by a hood.”

Regina could see Emma’s hand moving under the fabric and she noticed that the blonde’s breathing had increased in speed.

Emma’s brow furrowed. “I… I do not think so. There are so many folds and so much wetness. Is that normal?”

Regina gave a little laugh. “It is not just normal, it is admirable. I do so love a woman who knows how to get exceedingly wet.”

Emma pursed her lips. “Are you laughing at me? If you are then you can leave straight away and this lesson is forfeit.”

Regina shook her head and spoke in tender tones. “No, mon petit fleur, I was merely laughing because our society does not teach young women the value of being sexual creatures. A man would love a very aroused woman as it increases the pleasure of him entering her and yet… most men do not know how to make us aroused. Well then... we must learn for ourselves, and as with anything that we have to do for ourselves – we should be allowed to enjoy the labours of it. Enjoy how wet you are.”

Emma nodded and relaxed again. Her hand began to move again, sliding through the wetness in search of a little nub.

Regina had to clench her hands into fists to remind herself to keep her hands to herself. It would be so easy to find the little pearl for Emma and to show her how to use it. But no… this was a lesson that was not meant to startle Emma. She had to achieve it herself.

Emma’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I cannot find it. Perhaps I do not have one? Or maybe I am between the wrong lips?”

Regina shook her head. “No, it should be there, dear. I just wish I could see your equipment and locate the little darling for you.”

Regina chewed the inside of her cheek as she thought of the best way to help Emma. Perhaps she could draw the female anatomy? No, she was horrible at drawing. No… there was only one thing to do here.

She sighed deeply. “I am so sorry, Miss Swan, but I can only think of one way to show you without looking at you. I will have to show you mine.”

Was there a glint of excitement in Emma’s eyes? Was that a quickly hidden smile? Regina was quite sure of it. That was good news indeed.

With brimming confidence and pride, Regina began to undress.

Garment after garment fell away and every time a new body part was shown to Emma, the blonde gave an involuntary gasp. When Regina was finally naked in front of her, Emma groaned. Regina had to giggle at the exasperated sound in Emma’s voice.

“Whatever is the matter, dear?”

“You are… you are… perfect! Every bit of you is more beautiful than I could ever have imagined,” Emma said with a whimpering tone.

Regina could not help but smile beamingly. All the compliments of Princes, artists, Earls, Viscounts, poets and men in power that she had received meant nothing compared to this. The look of utter admiration in Emma’s eyes was everything. She only wished that she could know if the admiring look was one of love or simply the aesthetic pleasure of an artist.  

She put her own feelings aside. This was about unlocking the gates to Emma’s pleasure. She considered how to position herself so that Emma could see everything and finally concluded that she would have to stand over the blonde.

Gracefully, she mounted the bed. Emma’s hand had stilled under the nightgown and her eyes had grown big as saucers.

Regina walked the length of Emma’s body. Her naked feet taking careful steps on either side of the drawing tutor’s form. When she stood above Emma’s face she suddenly felt exposed in a way she never had before.

She recalled a dare where she had to ride naked on a horse on a late, drunken night in Rome and how she saw multitudes of people staring at her bared body… that had been nothing to how vulnerable and uncovered she felt now. 

Emma eyes fixed up at her sex and the younger woman whispered something.

“Pardon,” Regina asked with a voice strained with emotion.

Emma cleared her throat. “I said that it is exceedingly beautiful. It truly does resemble lips with the wet, pink innards. How fascinating! It glistens so prettily and it looks so inviting. You seem to have more hair than me and those dark curls are so lovely! I should like to draw it!”

Regina relaxed a little at the eagerness and bliss in Emma’s tone. It was a relief that the blonde so much enjoyed what she saw.

“I would suggest you do NOT draw it. If anyone were to find your drawing you should have a hell of a time explaining it away,” Regina said with a laugh.

Emma laughed too. “Yes, you are right. But still, it is such an amazing sight! Quite different from the male equivalent. This is so much more hidden and complex. How have I not known about it before?!”

“That is what we are here to remedy, my sweet. Now, pay close attention as I show you the little nub of which I spoke.”

Regina used the fingers of one hand to separate her outer labia and the other to pull up the clitoral hood and expose what was by now a very erect clitoris.

Emma gave a gasp. “I can see it! It looks so smooth and shiny!”

Regina laughed heartily. “Yes, I suppose it would. It is such an innocent little thing and yet it can provide you with more pleasure than you have ever known. Some say that the bit we can see is only the tip and that it actually continues far inside the female form, but who can say?”

After saying those words, Regina decided to do the next part of the lesson with her fingers instead of her words. She used her free index finger to run the hood over her little pearl and massage it firmly. It was impossible not to give a small moan as the pleasure took over.

Apparently wanting a closer view, Emma brought her arm out of her sleeve again and lifted herself up to rest on her elbows.

Regina felt Emma get closer to her overheated sex and another moan escaped her painted lips. The room seemed to spin with her dizzying desire and for a moment she feared falling over. She stopped and took a deep breath.

“That is how you pleasure yourself. Or at least one way of doing it. You simply circle, rub, massage or caress that little nub until the world seems to explode in colours and every bit of your body fills with tingling pleasure. Then a blessed state of relief and bliss will follow and you can decide if you are sated or if you wish to try for another one,” Regina said breathlessly.    

Emma looked unsure and was about to ask something… then it happened.

Regina’s copious wetness had increased to the point where it stuck to her fingers in warm, sticky strings and as she moved her hand quickly, the long string of her essence gathered in a drop and fell. It landed on the base of Emma’s throat, slowly trickling down into the little hollow between her collarbones.

For a moment Regina felt mortified, and that was a new sensation for a woman who rarely felt ashamed. Emma however seemed overjoyed at the occurrence and quickly wiped her finger over the little hollow to gather up the drop.  

The blonde looked at her wet finger and mumbled, “that is extraordinary!”

Regina gave a little chuckle. “It would seem that you are not the only one who is exceedingly wet, Miss Swan. See what you do to me?”

Emma’s head snapped up to meet her gaze. “You mean that I caused this? It was not the motions of your fingers?”

“Oh, they exacerbated the situation but it is you who have aroused me,” Regina admitted easily.

Emma smiled at her and that smile seemed to make time itself stand still.

“ _Regina_. I do not want this lesson to end,” Emma said throatily.

“It doesn’t have to. Let me show you with a more hands on approach from now on and I can promise to make the lesson last until daylight interrupts us,” Regina said quietly and hopefully.

Emma hesitated and Regina was certain that she had pushed her luck too far. Emma would surely throw her out or recoil in fright.

What Emma did instead surprised them both. With reverent and trembling hands she caressed her way up Regina’s leg until her fingers could reach its wet goal. Soon her fingers were carefully sliding through Regina’s soft folds and finally a finger found what it unmistakeably had been looking for, her opening.

Emma swallowed thickly and in a hoarse voice said, “I will accept your offer on one condition.”

With Emma’s fingertip almost inside her, Regina could not think of much more than making love. But she made a valiant effort and croaked out, “name it.”

“I wish to enter you right now, before I lose my nerve. I so desperately wish to be inside you, you exquisite creature. Please let me in.”

Regina almost keened with want. “Yes, Emma, yes. Slide inside me and never leave.”

As a long and dexterous finger slowly pushed into her, Regina closed her eyes and knew that this would be the most memorable night in a life of exotic and eventful nights. This would be the night she would treasure the most. 


	10. morning arrives unwelcomed

It was early and the white sunlight had just begun beaming in through the window of Emma’s bedroom.

In a warm heap of limbs lay a pale blonde and an olive-skinned brunette and slept like babies. The innocence of their deep slumber was a stark contrast to their night of exquisite sin and it was well needed.

Regina had showed Emma a multitude of ways to pleasure a woman and together they had even discovered a few new ones. Their kisses had been not just fevered with want, but fuelled with deep emotion, and during the night Regina had dreaded that she was beginning to love the blonde.

She was frightened because she should not love. Her secret, the one much bigger than her lack of noble blood, should keep her from staying anywhere too long or getting too close to anyone. And yet, she had never felt as whole and content as she did when Emma nuzzled her face into the groove of her neck and mumbled affectionate promises.

The light was beginning to wake Emma, as it was she who faced the window. She squeezed her eyes shut and ignored it, knowing all too well that Regina would have to leave before the servants woke up and began to bustle around the quiet townhouse.  

But there was nothing for it. Early morning was upon them and Emma had to wake her lover with a kiss on her soft and impressively thick, dark hair.

“Dearest? It is time to wake up I am afraid,” Emma croaked before burying her nose completely in the coffee-coloured hair.

“Mmm. Not yet,” the brunette said and tightened her grip on Emma’s waist. It felt so good and Emma beamed with joy and pride as the most amazing creature she had ever encountered refused to let her go.

They both jolted as they heard a noise. It was far away but there was no mistaking it, someone was up and moving about.

Regina mumbled something in a language that Emma could not pick out, however, that did not truly matter as the tone of voice and the thunderous expression on the Baroness’ face showed that they must have been curse words.

She rose and began to scramble for her clothes. Emma stretched and then got up to help lace up Regina’s corset and later button the back of the dress the brunette had been wearing last night.

When Regina was dressed, if somewhat shabbily, she leant in to give Emma a long, soft kiss with a parting flick of her tongue in between Emma’s pink lips. Emma groaned pleasurably and when they broke apart they were both smiling.

“Another lesson tonight, Miss Swan?” Regina’s voice sounded rough with sleep but there was an unmistakable tint of tenderness to it.

Emma merely nodded, knowing that if she spoke she would end up begging Regina to stay longer.

With the words ‘ _Au revoir, ma ch_ érie’Regina took her leave. 

As she was sneaking through the halls back to her own room she reflected on that she had done this before. Sneaking away from a lover’s room in the morning was a common occurrence in her life these days. But this. This had been different. Emma had touched so much more than her body.

With a beatific smile, Regina remembered moments from the night. Most of all she remembered how Emma had looked and reacted as she had her first real climax. It had not been easy to achieve, Regina had felt Emma tensing up at the wrong moments and trying to force the peak of her pleasure.

But that had been easily remedied. A prompt entering of two fingers just as the blonde was on the verge of peaking did the trick. Emma had been laying there, enjoying Regina’s fingers on her swollen little pearl but struggling to rise to the next level – and then Regina had commanded her to open her eyes.

Emma obeyed and as she did Regina forcefully drove two fingers into the flexible opening and distracted Emma from trying so hard. Those sea-green eyes suddenly grew wide and then rapidly closed. Emma’s body had tensed up in every muscle and her back had arched up from the bed, taking Regina’s weight with it up. Emma had nearly cried out and Regina had hurried to clamp her own mouth to Emma’s to swallow up the blonde’s screams.

As the pleasure had crested and began to ebb out, Regina had held Emma and softly kissed the limp lips of her beautiful mouth. Soon Emma regained her faculties and returned the kiss. The Baroness could feel the younger woman’s body tremble and shake with little aftershocks as she tightly clung to Regina’s body.

She broke away from Emma’s mouth and began to place soft kisses on her cheeks, chin, forehead and eyelids. Emma’s breaths were still heavy and the gusts of hot air hit Regina’s neck and hair. Regina experienced an intense feeling of pride. A feeling which was only exacerbated as Emma quietly mumbled, “thank you.”

Soon they were kissing again and Emma’s hands were traveling around her body, mapping each bit with soft, curious touches. And so the night had continued. Tenderness rising to passion and then ebbing back to tenderness in a flow which lasted until Emma had reluctantly asked for sleep many hours later. Regina had agreed and moved to leave.

In a swift movement Emma had grabbed her wrist.

“Please stay.”

“I… should not.”

“I know. Stay anyway.”

Regina had felt her heart pull almost magnetically towards the heart beating in Emma’s chest and before she knew it she had laid down on top of Emma and placed their hearts right next to the other. A kiss had confirmed it, they would sleep in each other’s arms… there was no other possible outcome of that night.

Regina now heard steps coming up the stairs behind her and hurried along. As soon as she was in her room she swiftly shed her clothes and climbed into bed. When a maid knocked on the door, the Baroness managed to do a good impression of someone who had just awoken.

And if the maid thought it odd that she was sleeping without nightwear on, she kept it to herself. After all, there is no accounting for eccentric foreign nobility.


	11. an unsolicited guest

Emma had been disappointed to hear that the Baroness had decided to take her breakfast in bed, but she told herself that Regina was just trying to be discreet. After all, if Emma got but one single chance to look into those warm, brown eyes again she knew she would smile wide enough to hurt her cheeks.

So, she breakfasted with Lord and Lady Blanchard and listened to them prattling on about the weather and how the wind’s direction threatened to blow some of the dreaded London smog this way.

Emma gave perfunctory nods, smiles and the occasional ‘ _Yes, I quite agree’_. But her faculties were otherwise engaged. She was remembering last night. With desperation, she tried to not think of any of the lovemaking as it would surely make her far _too_ distracted. Instead she focused on what little conversation there had been.

It was mainly the part about Regina’s first love that she dwelled on. It had bothered Emma that she had not gotten all the details on what had happened between Lady Blanchard and Regina but she did know that it concerned this young man that had won Regina’s heart. It was hard not to be jealous but the fact that the man in question seemed to be deceased helped.

Still, Emma had to be patient. Regina had promised to tell her all one day. One day when they were alone. Oh, to be alone with Regina, what sweet reward that would be!

”Did you hear that, Miss Swan?” Lady Blanchard was looking at her smilingly.

“Pardon, Milady. I am afraid I was miles away. What did you say?”

“I said that a new acquaintance of ours is paying us a visit for afternoon tea. The Duchess of Blueborough will honour us with her company. It would seem that she and dear David are thinking to join into a charity venture for injured soldiers!”

Lady Blanchard beamed with pride at her husband and so missed the colour draining from Emma’s face.

The panic set in and Emma had to use all the quick thinking that her tumultuous life had afforded her. She would simply have to stay out of the house from the afternoon and onwards. She needed an excuse but that could surely be managed, perhaps she should fall ill and take to her room?

_No, there must be a better excuse,_ Emma thought feverishly. There must be an excuse where she might sneak Regina along with her, perhaps then they could finally get that time alone. Maybe then she would finally dare to tell Regina all of her own sad tale and explain why she always hid from the Duchess?

Emma ate her last spoonful of scrambled eggs and then excused herself from the table.

The morning moved on without giving Emma a single chance of seeing the Baroness. At first she thought that Regina was avoiding her but as she passed by the housekeeper, the competent woman stopped her to pass on the message that the Baroness was looking for her. Emma had to smile at the pair of them, two lovesick women running around a three story townhouse looking for each other and still not colliding.  

It was another ten minutes until Emma heard the blessed sound of the piano forte. She thought she recognised the melody. Bach perhaps? She scurried towards the room only to find that Regina was not alone.

Lady Blanchard was sitting next to Regina and studying the beautiful hands on the keys.

Their hostess shook her head. “Hmm, no. I do not think the piano forte is for me, dearest Regina. I shall stick to my drawing lessons, but do play on.”

Regina looked up for a moment. Emma could see the annoyance at being stuck in such close quarters with Lady Blanchard in Regina’s dark eyes. But as those eyes saw Emma there was a spark in them and that spark was soon followed by a dazzling smile.

As she saw that, Emma’s heart felt like it was doing somersaults in her chest and she had to stop herself from running over and kissing that incredible smile off of those beautiful lips. 

The blood was rushing in Emma’s ears and she felt hot and cold at the same time. Oh gods above, why did Regina von Mille have to be so beautiful? And what had Emma ever done to make such a magical creature look at her with such love and intensity?

“Miss Swan! Do join us,” Lady Blanchard said with a polite smile.

Emma weighed the options and stole another look at the woman who was still playing the piano but also looking at her as if she was some sort of miracle. No. She could not stay here or Lady Blanchard would soon see her drawing tutor basically mauling her distinguished relative and showering her with kisses.  

“Hello! I… I… would love to but I feel suddenly rather queer. I think perhaps I need some fresh air,” Emma said with a slight breathlessness in her voice.

Regina’s smile grew as if she understood exactly why Emma had to leave, and while Lady Blanchard was lamenting Emma’s need to leave and sense of being unwell, Regina gave her a conspiratorial wink and a slightly pouting of the lips. That pout could have meant _‘I am sorry you have to leave’_ but Emma interpreted it as what it was more likely to be, a discreet mimic of a kiss. 

Those lips would haunt Emma forever and she adored it! Still, the threat of the Duchess’ visit was hanging over her head and it quickly sobered her thoughts. At least now she had claimed to feel queer and could easily continue with that lie when she came back from the walk.

Emma quickly fetched a bonnet and fastened it before leaving Whitewater Place to take her walk. She quite looked forward to the chance of clearing her head and knew that she did her best thinking while striding for long distances.

As Emma walked along, hearing the gravel of the path under her soft kid boots she noticed another sound overtaking it. It was the sound of hooves and a carriage. She looked up and saw a Brougham approaching rapidly.

Stupidly she did not hurry away. Why would she? There were many visitors to Whitewater Place and the Duchess was not coming until the afternoon. She merely stopped and looked curiously at the carriage which stopped at the gates, mere steps away from where Emma now stood.

When the door to the Brougham opened Emma got a shock. Evidently the Duchess was not too bothered with if her afternoon tea took place in the actual afternoon or at eleven, which was what the hour had struck just a few minutes ago. 

Emma weighed her options. Running away was not going to work, the Duchess was stepping out of the carriage now and the second she looked up she would see Emma. Hiding her face wouldn’t work either, despite the bonnet she had decided to wear today. She would merely look more suspicious if she looked down at the ground and tugged her bonnet forward. There was no way out.

However, Emma need not have given it so much thought as the Duchess merely looked her right in the eye and said “ah, Emma. There you are. Cannot escape me this time, can you?”

“You knew I was here?”

The Duchess gave a falsified smile which looked like it had been glued to her features. “Yes, dear. I saw you the day you met dear Lady Blanchard in London and then it was just a matter of following the bread crumbs.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “What do you want with me?”

“What do you think, Miss Swan? That is still the name you use most of the time, is it not? How sentimental of you to keep the name I gifted you. Was it because of your swan-like neck or did I choose the name of the local public house? You know, I cannot remember!”

Emma balled her hands into fists. “I… do not remember either. And I do not know what you want with me either. Is it about the money?”

“Oh, dear foolish little urchin… no. No, it is not the money, I have regained what little sum you took ten scores over. No, I wish to speak about you regarding the fact that you know who I am and… what I do.”

Emma shivered despite the warm winds of the day. “Talk to me or silence me?”

The Duchess’ fake smile faded. She looked around to see that her carriage and driver had departed and then she closed in on Emma and grabbed the blonde’s wrist tightly.

“Whatever it takes! I have hoped to run into you one of these days but it never seemed to happen. When someone said you had left for Bath I thought you might be sensible and leave this business behind you, start over fresh in a new town. But no, you are still in the game and therefor still a liability to me.”

Emma tried to yank her wrist free but the Duchess’ grip was surprisingly strong. “I am no such thing. There’s enough people to blackmail and con for us both. Besides, I only keep to the ones who deserve it. That leaves the playing field for the good people free for you!”  

The Duchess clenched her jaws and stared daggers at Emma. “Oh, it is not about wanting all the marks to myself, you silly harlot. It is about how much you know! My reputation is as clean as a nun’s, I will not destroy that.”

Emma spoke through gritted teeth. “What do you expect me to do then? Jump in the Thames?”

“I am sure something can be arranged. Perhaps we can get you on a ship to the colonies? Or maybe you are too stubborn for that and would return? Will it need to be an accident in the Thames for you? Or being run down by a carriage, perchance?”

Emma was about to argue when she heard a haughty and perfectly measured laugh behind her back. The laugh was musical but deep. Only one person had a voice like that. Regina. Why could Emma never hear that woman coming until she was right on top of her?

“I do not think we have had the honour of meeting. The Duchess of Blueborough, is it not? I am Baroness Regina von Mille, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am sure.”

The Duchess let go of Emma’s wrist and Emma took two steps back, almost bumping into Regina as she did. Lithely as a cat, Regina moved away and kept her gaze locked on the Duchess.

They both had matching faked smiles and suspicious eyes and there was a tension in the air, as if thunder was coming. Emma felt the small hairs on her neck stand up.

Without turning to look at her, Regina addressed Emma.

“Miss Swan, the air seems to be a bit chillier than I had expected. Be a darling and go fetch my shawl from my room? It is draped over the armoire.”

Emma frowned and stared at Regina. The air was not that chilly and why would she want Emma to leave. Surely she was not about to fight Emma’s fight for her? Emma Swan took care of herself at all times and did not need to be saved!

Emma replied tersely. “Why do not you fetch it, Baroness? I am busy in conversation with the Duchess.”

Regina gave her rich laugh once more. “Conversation? Is that what the two of you were engaged in?”

A fourth person arrived on the scene. It was Lord Blanchard with Killian, the toy poodle.

He smiled and bowed to Regina and Emma and then saw the Duchess.

“My dear Duchess! This is a pleasant surprise indeed, we were not expecting you until the afternoon!”

The Duchess took her beady eyes off Emma and Regina and faced Lord Blanchard with a simpering smile.

“Oh, I do beg your pardon. I could not quite recall if we said afternoon tea or luncheon! Shall I return later?” The Duchess began to wrap up her shawl as if to leave.

Lord Blanchard looked appalled. “No no no, of course not! Mary Margaret will be thrilled to see you sooner and I am eager to discuss our new venture! Do take my arm and let’s go in.”

The Duchess did not for a second let on that she was disappointed or annoyed. She gladly took Lord Blanchard’s proffered arm and walked in with him.

Emma felt ashamed at how Regina had found her and her old mentor, and on top of that, her pride was bruised because the older woman had tried to help. She tried to find the words to convey this, but as always she found herself to be a master of action and a nuisance at words. She stormed off past Regina, towards the road to go for a long walk and clear her head.

Regina did not call her back. She merely watched the blonde rush off with a surveying look in her chocolate brown eyes. She did not know all the facts in Emma’s past with this Duchess, but she had heard enough of their conversation and the stranger’s venomous tone to know that Emma was in danger. In danger and far too proud or perhaps ashamed to ask for help.


	12. A long trek and a pork pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Not sure if anyone will be geeky enough to be as thrilled as I am by this… but I wrote this chapter in historic Greenwich with the Thames in front of me and the Cutty Sark to my left. It is honestly like sitting in history. Anyway, sorry to interrupt the story. Let’s get back to Emma.

Emma stopped for breath. From the way the sun was setting she realised that it must be afternoon now. Not only had she walked for hours, running from her problems and desperately wracking her brain for solutions at the same time, she had also missed lunch.

She knew it would be too far too walk back, even if she really should do so to ensure that she did not alarm the Blanchard’s and Regina with her absence. She decided to walk a little further, if she could just spot the Thames she might just find a quicker way home.

She could see carriages coming to a stop by a building further up the road and guessed that it would be a public house for weary travellers up there. If she was going to find her way back to Whitewater Place and have the vigour to face the Duchess she would need sustenance. She marched over there, feeling her calves ache from her hours of walking.  

She had a little change in a hidden pocket of her sage green dress but not enough to pay a driver to take her back to the centre of Greenwich, sadly. No, she would have to get fed and watered and then make the long trek back. _Serves me right for being such a scaredy cat and such a stubborn idiot_ , Emma thought.

As she walked into the old and dim public house she saw everyone looking at her suspiciously. A lone woman who had arrived without carriage and in such a dishevelled state? Emma knew just how odd it looked. 

She smiled disarmingly at the patrons and the potbellied landlord and said, “our carriage ran into the ditch a few minutes down the road. My husband is just assessing the damage and sent me along to find a bite to eat and something to drink. I get awful faint if I do not eat.”

A few eyebrows were raised at the story but no one said anything and they soon returned to their beers and conversations.

The landlord straightened up behind the bar and beamed at Emma. “I see, m’dove.” Well now, what can I get you on this sunny day, then?”

Emma walked over to the bar and tried to read the half-smudged chalk writing on the wall.

“Does, does that say… pork pie?”

He beamed proudly. “It does indeed, Miss.”

“I’ll have that then. Oh and a small pint of lemonade, please.”

Emma placed her coins on the bar and the landlord scooped them up.

“Good choice, dove! Have it and then you can recommend the same to yer husband when he joins you.”

Emma gave a faint smile and a nod. Sometimes she just got so very tired of lying. A pang in her heart informed that she missed Regina again. Suddenly she knew that she wanted to tell the older woman everything, every sordid detail about her own pathetic life and how she got into this ridiculous situation with the Duchess.

As she walked away from the bar she realised that she should not have been so proud when Regina tried to help her with the Duchess, after all, she would have done the same for Regina if their places had been swapped.

If the Duchess had left by the time that Emma got back to Whitewater Place, she would go straight to Regina’s room and tell her everything.

Emma sat down by a rickety table and undid her bonnet. She had gotten hotter than she had realised during her walk and the closed air in the public house was not helping her one bit. She frowned at the slight sheen of sweat she could feel all over. Perhaps she would not go _straight_ to Regina’s quarters. Perhaps some water, soap and an evening dress should be applied first. 

In fact, it was necessary to look at least somewhat presentable in front of the always impeccable Baroness. Regina always looked so collected and polished, it was as if she had a team of little helpers painting her face, sewing in her dress and lacquering her hair to perfection at every given moment.

Soon the food arrived and Emma gulped the greasy pie down in far too few bites and washed it down with her lemonade. With a sigh she realised that this meant she would probably have an upset stomach later. Oh well, yet another way in which this day was turning to manure.

When her meal was finished, Emma thanked the landlord and said that she should return to her husband and see what was delaying him. He bade her farewell and she departed with a forced smile in his direction.

The walk back felt horribly long. When she could finally see Whitewater Place ahead, it was almost dark and by the time she opened the gate and quietly walked towards the house, she could barely see where the door was.

She crossed her fingers that she would not run into Lord or Lady Blanchard, at least not until she had a chance to recover and freshen up. Luck was on her side, the butler let her in without a comment and Emma snuck up to her room to sit down and perhaps rub some feeling back into her sore feet.

She opened the door and as she looked at her bed in the corner of the petite room she saw a sight she would never forget. Her heart seemed to stop and she felt like her entire body went cold in one blink of an eye.

On the bed sat Regina and in her arms was the Duchess. First Emma’s brain interpreted the strange embrace as romantic until she noticed that the Duchess seemed to be in a deep sleep and that Regina was not kissing her neck… she was drinking from it!

Emma gasped loudly and Regina looked up. There was blood dripping from her full lips and from what little glance Emma got of the brunette’s mouth… her teeth seemed to be strangely pointy all of a sudden.

The Baroness licked the dark blood off her lower lip and spoke. “Do close the door, dear. I hope you do not mind that I dealt with your little problem. You did not wish to dispose of her yourself did you?”


	13. Creature of the night?

Emma just stared in horror at the scene before her. Regina laid the insensible Duchess next to her on the bed and then gave a deep sigh.

“Is this the wearisome part where you scream and faint because I am a _bloodsucking creature of the night_?”

Emma looked taken aback at the question. “No, I mean…um… no. I knew you were not plainly human. No one wakes up that pretty in the morning unless they are something outlandish. B-but … you are drinking from her!”

“Ah, yes. Well I am sorry to say that she tastes rather bitter. I suppose her unpleasant demeanour has seeped into her blood. Still, I required blood and you needed to get rid of that bothersome woman. I was going to discuss it with you, but you seemed to vanish for the day. Sadly, the Duchess did not. I managed to convince the Blanchard’s that she left but actually she came up here to lay in wait for you. Well… she found me instead. And now she is a hairsbreadth from being dead.”

Emma laughed. She did not know what else to do! It was all so absurd and morbid and Regina was so calm about all of it.

Regina smiled and there seemed to be something akin to pride in that smile. “I have to say, Miss Swan, you are taking this very well. Not your first time around the occult?”

Emma gave an almost hysterical laugh and ran her hand over her eyes. “Call me Emma for heaven’s sake, especially if you are going to go around eliminating my enemies. And no, not my first time. Before I came here I served as companion and makeshift nursemaid to a woman who had the misfortune of being a lycanthrope.”

Regina raised her perfect eyebrows. “A werewolf?”

“Yes. She would be locked in her bedroom every night of the full moon and I would sit outside and guard the door. When the sun arose I would enter her room and make sure she was alright, tend to any cuts she might have given herself and make her presentable again. Mostly she just needed to be held after those nights and her useless husband was too frightened and disgusted to do it. Poor Ruby. I am glad she decided to leave him.”

“Ah. So, not a vampire then.” Regina clasped her hands in her lap.

Emma stared into the chocolate brown eyes that still looked as safe and beautiful to her, no matter what the person behind them actually was.

“No. You would be the first that I have ever encountered. Is that truly what you are?”

“Yes.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “But you…”

“Walk in the sun? Do not stay up all night? Do not cower from crosses? Can eat some solid food if needed?”

Emma pursed her lips in thought. “Yes. All of those I suppose.”

“My dearest Emma, those ‘vampire facts’ are just theatrics that we use as misinformation. If people assume we cannot be in the sun, they will not shun us when they see us strolling in a sunny park. Do you see?”

“Yes, I suppose I do. But… you do pray on people and drink their blood.”

Regina looked troubled suddenly. “Yes. However we do not need to feed more than a few times a year. Blood has a lot of nutrients and vampires do not need much to sustain them. I do drink blood from people, but I try to be picky about _which people_.”

She chuckled at a memory. “In Paris I found a group of young artists who believed that their art improved if a vampire drank of their blood. I was full to the brim for weeks! But then they irritated me and I quitted that scene.” 

Regina paused to look at the Duchess next to her. “Normally though, I choose people who have deserved it. Murders, torturers, child molesters and… those who threaten me or the few people I happen to care for.”

Now it was Emma who chuckled.

Regina quirked an eyebrow. “Something amusing, dear?”

Emma smiled. “It is just funny how similarly you pick your victims and I my marks. I never con the innocent; I con the greedy and the cruel. I suppose if I were to do something as drastic as draining people I would choose people who had done drastically dreadful acts.”

Regina smiled back. “I am glad we are in agreement on that then.” Her smile suddenly died and she looked crestfallen as she continued. “I know it is wrong of me to play god and decide who lives and who dies, but I am a predator and I need to feast on prey or die.”

Emma nodded slowly. It was a lot to take in. She had not known what exactly she thought the Baroness was, but she knew that even if she had known from the start – she still would have fallen head over heels for the foreign beauty.

Regina cleared her throat. “I will gladly tell you everything about me and my condition later but right now we need to decide what to do about the Duchess.”

Emma bit her lower lip. “Is… is she dead?”

Regina cast a bored glance at the woman prone on the bed. “Nearly.”

Emma swallowed thickly. “Well, then I suppose you might as well finish what you started.”

There it was. Emma had just assisted in a murder for the first time. She knew that she would wrestle with her conscious over this for a long time to come but she also knew that the Duchess would eventually have had her killed. She would sell this as a self-defence act to her aching conscience.

Regina nodded sombrely and pulled the Duchess’ torso back onto her lap and then she latched on to the pale skin of the lifeless woman’s neck and there was a soft sucking sound.

Emma heard the sound and knew that she should recoil, but there was a tiny part of her, a tiny dreadful, degenerate part of her that could not stop looking at Regina the same way she had when the Baroness played the piano forte.

Regina was so perfectly measured, skilled and elegant in all she did. Even in the act of feasting on another human being she looked… impressive. Emma shivered at the power of her new lover. It was frightening and arousing all at once. It made Emma want to possess her… or perhaps to be possessed by her. Or both.

Just as you sometimes feel the inclination to jump as you stand on something high up, Emma experienced a strange wish to be the one to feel Regina’s pointed teeth and hungry mouth on her skin.

Emma noticed that her breathing had become shallow and that she suddenly felt very warm. She bit her lower lip, wishing the first tingles of arousal away.   

Regina let go of the Duchess’ neck and licked her lips as she placed the corpse on the bed.

She locked eyes with Emma.“There. It is done. She will not bother you again.”

Emma felt what she was about to do just as she did it. She rushed over and pushed Regina onto the bed and kissed her deeply. There were no pointy teeth in the mouth now but there was the metallic taste of blood and an unusual warmth which surprised Emma.

Regina returned the kisses gladly and moaned at Emma’s enthusiasm. Soon her hands began to find their way onto Emma’s body, sliding up her corseted waist and grabbing at the breasts locked in at the top of the stern garment.

Emma felt her sex pounding furiously and was completely unaware of anything else but her hunger for Regina. She needed to possess this creature of the night until she lost her wits.

Because of this, it was Regina who stopped the frenzied actions.

“Emma. Stop. I do not think you really want to be doing this next to a dead body.”

Emma was breathing very heavily and stared wildly into her eyes. Without warning she promptly bunched the Baroness’ dress, and its many petticoats, up at her waist. Then she positioned her leg between Regina’s and brought her knee up to push against the brunette’s sex.

Emma’s voice sounded rough as she growled, “are you certain? Because I do not think I care one whit _who_ or _what_ is in the room. I want the taste of you in mouth within the next few minutes and that is that!”

Regina grinned and once more quirked her eyebrow in that particular manner of hers. “My, you really are enflamed. If I did not know better I would think that my deadly nature attracts you.”

Emma let her body answer by leaning down to kiss Regina roughly and push her knee against Regina’s warm core once more. Again it was Regina who had to stop the mad and delectable passion.

“Control yourself, mi amor. We will get rid of the Duchess and then we can continue this in peace and quiet. Work before pleasure.”

Emma’s eyes grew large at those last words and she seemed to sober up somewhat. “Work? That’s an interesting idea. Have you ever considered using your… affliction as a means of accruing money?”

Regina laughed and softly caressed Emma’s cheek. “No. But then I do not need money, I married myself to a large inheritance, remember?”

“Do not be condescending with me, Baroness. You may be lethal but I can still take my belt to you! Although I worry that you might enjoy that… but back to the topic at hand. You might not need money but I do and you, well, you need blood. If we went into business we could fulfil both our needs and rid the world of some scum.”

Regina laid down more comfortably and placed one hand behind her head. “Go on.”

“There will always be people who need other people to disappear. A beaten wife whose husband drinks away what little income they have? She contacts us and that scoundrel could be your dinner for a few farthings and a grateful smile from his new widow.”

“My dearest Emma. That will hardly be a common enough case to be sustainable. Most women need their men to provide the money, even if they do drink most of it.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “It was just an example. I am saying that there will always be a market for getting rid of unwanted people. We could be a blend of what they call ‘bounty hunters’ and guardian angels.”

Regina scoffed.

“Alright, maybe not angels,” Emma admitted. “But we can choose our victim, like we do now, just choose the scum that people will _pay_ to get rid of. Cruel landlords, rapists and so on. We could start an elimination bureau and travel the world selling our services. Putting vague ads in the papers and spreading the word of mouth. You want some wicked wrongdoer gone? Ask us and they shall trouble you no more!”

Regina pursed her lips and hummed pensively. “You do realize that we no doubt will have rogues asking us to rid them of other rogues?”

Emma shrugged. “Then we take their money and we kill both parties. A good meal for you and then we can give half the dosh to the orphanage.”

“Dosh? Careful, Miss Swan, your lack of pedigree is showing,” Regina joked with a pleased grin.

Emma growled at her and playfully bit at her ear.

“Now now, biting is my part of the business venture,” Regina drawled.

Emma grinned. “Does that mean you are in?”

“That means that I will consider your proposal. However, I shall not be able to do that until I can stop fretting about the corpse in your bed. Now, she will weigh a lot less without any blood in her body. I suggest that we wrap her in a sheet, winch her down from your window to the shrubbery below and then go out there to drag her body into the Thames.”

Emma chewed her cheek. “Will she sink?”

“If we put enough rocks in the sheet with her, then yes. There are plenty of rocks by the water. I will go fetch some rope, I always carry some in my portmanteau,” Regina stated in a matter-of-fact sort of way.

Emma stared at her. “You mean that those _bare essentials_ that you carry from country to country include rope?”

“Yes, and a bone saw. I have to rid myself of bodies quite a lot, Emma dearest. Now stop asking questions and fetch a sheet from the linen cupboard over there and wrap the Duchess up tightly. I shall be back with the rope shortly.”

Emma just nodded dumbly and went to get the sheet. Her movements felt mechanical and she had to keep reminding herself that this was not some odd dream.

They followed through with Regina’s plan and Emma managed to get through the whole thing without being violently ill to the stomach or shrieking in fear when the corpse hit the ground below with a thud. Luckily no one investigated the noise and they could sneak out without detection.

Soon the sheet containing the Duchess’ body was filled with rocks and dropped into the Thames with quite a lot of effort. It was obvious that Emma was the stronger of the two of them.

“So, supernatural strength does not come with your illness then,” Emma asked smugly.

Regina tried to hide how hard she was panting from the exertion. “Do not call it my illness, I do not have the _pox_. And no, that is not part of my unusual abilities.”

Emma placed her hands on her hips and gave a quick hum. “I see! But improved hearing and sense of smell is, I suppose. I am exceedingly grateful for that as it has gotten me out of trouble several times already!”

“Glad to hear it, my sweet,” Regina said with a little laugh.

Emma looked pensive. “What about your scent?”

Regina knitted her brows and her tone was sharp as she replied. “What about it?”

Emma shrugged. “You have this delicious and almost… dangerous scent. Is it due to your, well, condition?”

Regina laughed again, louder this time. “Oh, mon amour… no. My scent is simply an old trick a lover once taught me. She used to infuse rose petals in expensive cognac and wear it as perfume. I have copied that habit and bring a bottle of the infusion with me everywhere. I find it gets quite a lot of attention, and perhaps it evens the playing field slightly for my prey if they can smell me.”

Emma looked sceptical at that notion but changed the topic. “What about your ability to creep up on people without a sound, is _that_ part of your vampirism?”

“No, that is merely a bi-product of growing up with a mother who believed that girls should be seen and not heard. Making noise, including clomping steps, meant you were not allowed dinner.”

Emma frowned. “I am very sorry.”

“Oh, think no more of it. I am sure my childhood was still better than yours.”

“I do wish to know more about your life. For example… when did you become a vampire? And what happened between you and Mary Margaret?”

Regina sighed sadly. “I will tell you everything, dear. But not tonight. Not now. We have been through enough tonight and we have spoken more than I would like. I think it is time to retire to the bedroom and allow our bodies to do the rest of the talking. Would you not agree, sweetest?”

Emma smiled and felt warmth flower in her stomach. As she saw that smile mirrored on Regina’s face and felt the brunette place her hand in hers, that flower let its roots extend up into her torso and spread warmth and light all the way into her heart.

Around them the wind had changed direction. Nothing was ever going to be the same. _Life_ was never going to be the same. And Emma thanked the stars above them for that.    

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Author’s note:   
> Thank you for reading! As you can probably tell, this story is meant to be the first part of a series. However, I do have lots of other stories on the back burner if no one else liked my take on a Victorian drama/comedy with a vampire theme. If however you DO want to see the future instalments where they find villains to fight and exploit, where Regina makes love to Emma in a private balcony during an opera, where they tell one other about their pasts, and where they go undercover and Emma gets to use her old Cockney accent to disguise herself as a streetwalker... Then let me know and I'll get writing part two of the Victorian Vampire Vagitarians series.


End file.
